


Boys Will Be Boys

by SinnerOnTheRight



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Gay, I meant for this to be a one shot but it had other plans, I promise I'm going to finish it, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Ryden, fever era, recreational alcohol use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:02:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 45,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7879339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinnerOnTheRight/pseuds/SinnerOnTheRight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon insists he isn't gay, but decides he wants to experiment with just a kiss. But a kiss is never just a kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bes' Frens Can Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> If you prefer to read stories on Wattpad, you can find this one here (under my Wattpad user name SinnerOnTheRight1):  
> http://my.w.tt/UiNb/cngFVIpdpy

The party had been raging for hours. It was 1:30 in the morning and there was no sign of things winding down.

The reason for the party -- not that they ever needed a reason -- was to celebrate the success of Fever and the upcoming tour. Alcohol had been flowing freely all night, much of it into Brendon's bloodstream. Pete was torn between wanting to see how much crazy shit the kid would do and worrying that he was going to puke or black out. Or both. Most likely both.

 Pete was pretty drunk himself, so he was in no position to play the role of dad or babysitter. These young guys were about to be huge stars; they needed to learn how to party responsibly. Pete knew from experience that sometimes the only way to learn that was the hard way.

Brendon was standing on a table in the bar with Ryan standing on a chair beside him, both singing along to the jukebox music at the top of their lungs. Brendon's dark hair was sweaty and disheveled, sticking up in some places and plastered to his forehead in others. Pete had half a mind to tell him to get down -- it would be tragic if Panic's frontman fell and broke his neck just days before the start of tour -- but he was too amused by the scene unfolding before him. He settled for standing beside the table, staying close and alert in case he ended up needing to catch him. He wondered where Zack was, because a little backup would be nice right now.

Brendon was sweating like crazy. When the song ended he shouted, "I'm too fucking _hot_!" and yanked at the bottom of his shirt, untucking it from his jeans. Within seconds, the fangirls in the bar had begun to chant, "Strip! Strip! Strip! Strip!"

Pete groaned inwardly when he saw the familiar, devilish, crooked smile slowly spread across Brendon's face. He was going to strip. _Of course_  he was going to strip. He was never one to back down from a dare, and he loved getting reactions out of people.

Brendon's hands went to the top of his shirt and he started fumbling with the buttons, swaying his hips with the music once the next song started playing. He got the top two buttons undone but the third one was giving him some trouble. The girls were going wild, squealing and continuing to chant. That's when Ryan decided to help hurry things along. Grinning drunkenly, he crawled onto the table at Brendon's feet, grabbing him by the knees to pull himself up. Brendon stumbled back a few steps and Pete leapt around the table, ready to catch him, but Brendon managed to regain his footing just in time. Ryan knelt before him and reached out to grab his belt buckle. The shrieks of the fangirls had reached fever pitch. Brendon threw his head back and laughed as Ryan unbuckled the belt and started pulling it off, but Brendon's jeans were tight and the belt was firmly trapped by the belt loops. Giving up, Ryan left the belt hanging open and went for the button of Brendon's jeans. He made quick work of unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper down, revealing dark red boxer briefs. Brendon and his goddamn red underwear, Ryan thought to himself, chuckling. He reached for the waistband of the boxers and suddenly Pete was there, saying, "NO, no, no, no nonono..." Pete knew what it was like to have pictures of your dick all over the internet and he didn't want that happening to Brendon too, although the crazy fuck probably wouldn't even mind. He wrapped his arms around Ryan's middle and yanked him off the table.

"HEY!" Ryan protested, weakly struggling for Pete to let him go, which he did once Ryan was steady enough on his own feet. A disappointed groan erupted from the girls in the crowd, and Pete looked up to see Brendon buttoning his jeans and refastening his belt, having somehow come to his senses. He was still laughing, but now he was shaking his head, saying, "Nah, I can't, I can't..."

Spencer walked over carrying two beers. He handed one up to Brendon, who took it and immediately took a huge gulp, wiping foam off his mouth with his sleeve. Spencer extended a hand and Brendon took it, using it to balance himself as he climbed down onto a chair, then jumped to the floor. "Thank you, my good man," Brendon said, pounding Spencer on the back.

"No, thank _you_  for keeping your clothes on." Spencer replied, but his eyes were twinkling and it was clear he was amused.

"Don't thank me yet. The night is still young." Brendon gave him an exaggerated wink and disappeared into the crowd.

Spencer rounded on Ryan. "And what the hell was that all about?" He asked, genuinely curious.

Ryan was still sober enough to have the decency to look chagrined. He shrugged and mumbled, "I dunno. Got caught up in the moment. The girls were dying for it."

"Do you realize how many people just snapped a picture of you on your knees in front of Brendon, unbuttoning his jeans? You can expect to see _that_ shit all over the internet by tomorrow. Actually, by right now, probably."

Ryan shrugged again. "They already think I'm screwing him. Let them think what they want. If anything, it's _helping_ us sell records and concert tickets."

Spencer couldn't deny that. He didn't get kids these days, even though technically he was still a kid himself. Ten years ago, it would have been scandalous for a band to act openly gay. Today, kids went wild with excitement when two men pretended to kiss on stage. Taking a swig of his beer, he said, "Okay, well, as long as you know what's coming."

"Yup. I know." Ryan's tone indicated that the conversation was over.

Pete looked around, his eyebrows furrowed. "Where did Brendon go, anyway? Someone should probably be keeping an eye on him at this point."

"I'll go." Ryan offered. Spencer quirked an eyebrow at him and Ryan added pointedly, "I need another beer anyway. _Someone_  didn't get _me_  one." He pushed past Spencer and headed for the bar, which is (of course) where he found Brendon, doing shots with a group of female fans who were all vying for his attention. One of them spotted Ryan and let out a high-pitched squeal. "Ryan!" She gestured wildly. "Come do a shot with us!"

He hesitated for a minute. Shots weren't his thing, especially after the number of beers he'd already consumed. Before he had a chance to shake his head no, the girl rushed over and took him by the arm, pulling him over to the group.

Brendon was drunk as fuck, he noted. He was visibly swaying on his feet at this point. The only thing that seemed to be holding him up was the pretty brunette whose shoulders he had his arm around. He leaned his head sideways and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle. He started kissing her neck, and her eyes fluttered closed. She tilted her head to allow him more access.

Ryan quickly looked away from the show of drunken intimacy. He moved to the other side of the bar, sat on a stool, and flagged down the bartender. One more beer and he was outta there, he decided. Even if it meant getting a taxi and leaving the others behind.

He couldn't explain the feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't jealousy. Brendon was straight, and hell, Ryan was straight too. Well, mostly straight. He'd experimented with both sexes, but he felt that even labeling himself as bisexual was going a bit too far. He usually preferred women, but occasionally found himself attracted to men. And that's where things got complicated when it came to Brendon. Ryan was attracted to him, and had been from the moment Brent introduced them to each other. But Ryan had forced himself to bury those thoughts in a deep, dark grave in his mind, then pour concrete over it. For one thing, Brendon was straight. There was no sense wasting time longing for someone he could never have. For another, more important thing, Brendon was his bandmate. He was the leader, the frontman, the gorgeous guy with the incredible vocal range; the only voice Ryan could imagine being worthy of singing Ryan's lyrics. Allowing Brendon to bring those songs to life was a gift that he wouldn't trust anybody else in the world with. Which brought him to the third and most important reason why Ryan didn't allow himself to be attracted to Brendon: they were best friends.

So _no_ , Ryan told himself as he took a long swallow of his fresh, ice cold beer. He wasn't jealous. It was some... _other_  reason why he had a nagging sensation inside when he saw Brendon nuzzling the beautiful brunette. Ryan decided he was just going to chalk it up to being drunk. Too much alcohol had caused a crack in the concrete that covered the grave in his mind.

He was so busy brooding that it took him a few minutes to notice that the group of girls, and Brendon, had made their way over to him. It only came to his attention when some of the girls started getting a little too close, deliberately brushing against him. One of them touched his hair and he flinched. He just wasn't in the mood. He finished his beer in a hurry and was about to get up and leave when Brendon suddenly abandoned the brunette and came up behind him. He draped himself across Ryan's back. Winding his arms around Ryan's waist, he put his lips right against his ear and whispered, "Ry? Ryan? Hey....Ry? Ryro?"

If Ryan hadn't already known Brendon was drunk, this would have made it glaringly obvious. Pulling his head away from Brendon's mouth, he snapped, " _What_?" He hadn't meant to snap at him, so he said it again, more gently. "What?"

"I'm drunk."

"You don't say."

His sarcasm clearly went right over Brendon's head, because Brendon pressed his lips to Ryan's ear again and slurred insistently, "No, I'm serious. I'm like really drunk. Like, _really_  really. Seriously, really. Drunk."

Ryan pulled his head away again. "Jesus Christ, Brendon, say it, don't spray it."

Brendon laughed, his body shaking, which made Ryan shake too. "What are you, 12?"

In spite of his annoyance, Ryan couldn't help smiling. But then Brendon's mouth was at his ear again, his tongue darting out briefly to lick him, and the smile vanished. Brendon murmured, "You're so cute, Ryan." He pressed a warm, wet kiss behind Ryan's ear. "The girls wan' us to make out."

The crack in the concrete was widening. The only thing stopping Ryan from becoming aroused was the fact that Brendon was absolutely shitfaced and obviously needed to go home.

Jerking his head away from Brendon's, he turned his head to look at him and said calmly, "That's it. You're shut off."

"C'mon, Ry...it'd be hot. You know it would be."

"Brendon," Ryan hissed, keeping his voice low. "You're drunk. You're straight. And we're in public."

Brendon shrugged. "Jus' 'cause I'm straight doesn't mean I can't 'xperiment. And you have a nice mouth." He emphasized this point by bringing his right hand up and smooshing his index finger against Ryan's lips.

Ryan resisted the urge to suck Brendon's finger into his mouth. He was suddenly extra grateful that he'd stuck with just drinking beer and not hard liquor all night, or God only knows what he might give into.

"You're my best friend, you know? My bes' fren...and I trust you. If I was gonna kiss any guy, it'd be _you_." Brendon slurred, tapping his finger against Ryan's lips when he said the word "you". Leaning in, he added, "I _want_ to kiss you. Not jus' 'cause I'm drunk. I've been thinking 'bout it for a long time. An' you _totally_  wanted to get my pants off a couple minutes ago."

"I was fucking around, Bden. I just wanted to see how loud the girls would get." Ryan's mind was whirling. Did Brendon really just say he'd been thinking about kissing him for a long time? No. He wouldn't allow himself to believe it. The whole idea was just a disaster waiting to happen.

Brendon's body weight was getting heavier by the second and Ryan was getting nervous. Where were Pete or Zack when he needed them?

"You're my bes' friend." Brendon repeated. "Bes' frens can kiss."

Ryan wrapped his fingers around Brendon's wrist and gently brought his hand down, away from his face. "You're my best friend too, Bren. Can you stand? I think we need to get you home."

"Noooo," Brendon whined. "Not home yet. Make out. Girls."

"You're about 5 minutes away from passing out. I think you should forget about entertaining girls and remember how to stand up straight, because -- dude, you're _crushing me_..."

Suddenly the weight was lifted as Brendon straightened up in a hurry, stumbling backwards a little. Ryan swiveled on the bar stool and stood, intending to leave Brendon with the girls and go in search of the other guys for help. He stopped short, however, when he saw the look on Brendon's face. His "happy but tired" drunk face had changed into his "about to be sick" drunk face. Sure enough, he reached for Ryan and said, "Oh shit...spinnin' room. Two Ryans."

Ryan kicked into action faster than should have been possible, considering the amount of beer he'd consumed. He wrapped his right arm tightly around Brendon's back, supporting as much of his friend's weight as he could, and looked around desperately, trying to locate the nearest bathroom. He couldn't find one, and knowing there was no time to waste, he headed for the nearest exit instead. Brendon was stumbling and trying to keep his eyes closed in order to block out the spinning room, so Ryan was mostly dragging him along, but somehow he managed to get them both outside.

The night (well, early morning) air was cool and damp, and Brendon took a deep, shaky breath. "Tha'ss good."

"We're outside now. If you need to puke, puke, just not on me."

Brendon shook his head. "No. S'all good." He took in another deep breath of fresh air.

Steering him away from the door, Ryan said, "C'mon, sit down." He carefully lowered his friend to the ground, where he sat with his back against the building's exterior. Brendon looked up at him with glazed eyes.

"Thanks, Ry. You take good care of me. Bes' fren'." He leaned his head back against the structure and closed his eyes.

"Will you be okay out here for a minute while I go get the others?" Ryan asked.

"Mmm-hmm." Brendon replied, not opening his eyes.

Ryan dashed back inside and found the rest of the guys as quickly as he could. Jon was the toughest to locate because he was in a bathroom stall with a Barbie Doll look-alike. By the time they all made it outside, Brendon was slumped over, completely passed out. Zack sighed. He was tempted to throw Brendon over his shoulder, caveman-like, and haul him to the van, but he didn't want to risk being barfed on. Instead he lifted him into a standing position and pulled one of Brendon's arms over his shoulders. Pete took the other side and together they got him to the van and unceremoniously dumped him into the passenger seat. Pete pulled the seatbelt across him and buckled it. "Safety first," he said, and laughed at the irony of it. Death by alcohol poisoning? A possibility. Death by car crash? Not today, Satan.

The rest of the guys got into the van and they headed back to Pete's house, where they were all staying for the night. By the time they got there, it was almost 4:30 in the morning. The sun was starting to rise and the birds were already chirping. Ryan was already kicking himself for having drunk so much. He hated the sound of birds chirping when he hadn't even been to bed yet.

It took some effort to get Brendon into Pete's spacious, 6-bedroom home, but they managed it. Zack dumped him onto one of the beds in the first guest room he came to. Everyone said their goodnights and headed to their own sleeping places, but Ryan lingered next to Brendon. Zack understood why. "Keep an eye on him?" he asked. Ryan nodded.

Once Zack was gone, Ryan pulled Brendon's shoes off and went to the kitchen. He rummaged around until he found a big bowl, which he brought back to the bedroom and placed on the floor next to Brendon. The room had an adjoining bathroom, but Ryan wasn't taking any chances. After using the bathroom himself and brushing his teeth with his finger, having forgotten his toothbrush, Ryan closed the bedroom door, pulled the shades down on the windows, and climbed onto the bed beside Brendon. Both of them were on top of the covers. He rolled Brendon onto his side -- safety first -- and then he faced in the opposite direction. Back to back, they slept.


	2. It's Just a Kiss

It was nearly two in the afternoon by the time everyone began to wake up. Ryan opened his eyes and peered at Brendon, who was still sleeping. Good. Ryan had been woken up around 8 AM by the sounds of him throwing up. At least he'd made it to the bathroom, so there was no mess to clean up or bowl to wash. The vomiting had gone on violently for almost an hour, during which time Ryan brought him a cold bottle of water and a wet cloth for the back of his neck. He used another wet cloth to wipe the sweat from Brendon's pale face. Brendon managed to smile weakly at him before getting hit with another bout of nausea. Ryan returned to bed and tried unsuccessfully to fall back to sleep. Eventually, Brendon crawled back onto the bed. He was shivering, his teeth chattering, so Ryan ended up spooning him (bes' frens can spoon, can't they? Ryan thought, laughing to himself). Ryan held him tightly, until he finally calmed down and drifted off. Only then was Ryan able to sleep.

Now he faced a predicament: he had to pee and he was dying of thirst, so he needed to find some way to disentangle himself from Brendon without waking him. At some point during their sleep Brendon had turned and was now facing Ryan. An old scene from the show Friends popped into Ryan's head and he almost laughed as he recalled Ross teaching Chandler the "hug and roll" technique. Chandler had botched it, but maybe, just maybe, Ryan could pull it off. Wrapping his arms tighter around Brendon, he began to roll them over until Brendon was on his back. Step one: success. Now all Ryan had to do was pull his arm out from underneath Brendon's back. He figured the faster he did it, the better. He just had to make sure he didn't accidentally spin him off the bed like Chandler did to Janice. Ryan counted to three in his head and then swiftly slid his arm out. Step two: success. He was free! Ryan had a few seconds of feeling triumphant until --

"Did you seriously just do the hug and roll thing to me?" Brendon asked, his eyes still tightly shut.

"Um...uhhh..." Ryan stammered. Damn Brendon for being such a big fan of Friends. "Sorry. Look, I gotta pee. And I need a drink and some aspirin." His pounding head was a reminder that he had overindulged last night too.

Brendon put his forearm over his eyes, blocking out what little light was in the room, and half-smiled. "I'm kidding. I'm sorry about last night. You didn't have to stay, but...thank you."

"It was nothing. I didn't want you choking on your own puke, that's all."

"Well. Thanks for aspiring to keep me from aspirating the contents of my stomach." He laughed at his own bad joke. "Put that in a song."

"Maybe I will." Ryan stood up, stretching. "I'll be right back."

He used the bathroom first, again brushing his teeth with his finger, then headed into the kitchen. He grabbed two bottles of water and 6 aspirin from the bottle that Pete had graciously left out on the counter for anyone who might need it. Nobody else was in the kitchen; from the sounds of it, the guys were in the living room playing a video game. Brendon was the only one really suffering after last night, and Ryan felt bad for him, in spite of knowing that he'd brought it on himself.

Returning to the bedroom, he kicked the door shut behind him and flopped back onto the bed. The movement made Brendon groan. Ryan handed him one of the bottles of water and 3 aspirin. "Take these, it'll help. And drink the entire water and I'll get you more."

"Ok, Dad." Brendon joked, but did as he was told. He was still keeping his eyes mostly closed. Ryan swallowed the other 3 aspirin with a swig of water and lay back on the bed. He wondered if it would be okay if they spent the entire day there, just napping, resting and recovering. They had nothing scheduled that day, but staying in bed all day seemed like a waste of time. Not that Brendon was up to doing anything productive in the first place.

"What happened last night?" Brendon asked after a few minutes.

 _I almost got you naked in front of a bar full of people, and then you wanted to make out with me_ , Ryan thought, but didn't say. Instead, he went with, "Well, nothing special really. At least not until you got on top of a table and almost took your clothes off."

Brendon was quiet for a minute, trying to force his foggy brain to cooperate and let him remember. He had a sudden flashback and said, "Ohhh shit. Yeah, I kinda remember that. Not the taking my clothes off part though..."

He trailed off and Ryan stayed quiet. He wasn't about to fill in the details. In fact, he'd be more than okay if Brendon never recalled the exact events of the tabletop incident.

"Who stopped me?" Brendon asked.

"Nobody, really. You just came to your senses."

"Hmph. That doesn't sound like me."

Ryan laughed. Brendon had finished his water, so Ryan brought him another. Hydration was key in getting rid of a hangover.

"So what happened after that?" Brendon seemed determined to piece the night together in his mind.

"Uhhh..." Ryan stalled, pretending he was having trouble remembering too. "You went to the bar and did some shots."

Brendon groaned. Just the thought of shots made him want to gag. Then he groaned again, but this time for a different reason: another flashback. "There were girls."

Ryan nodded. "Well, there's always girls."

"Yeah, but -- what did I do?"

Ryan was tempted to torture him. He was in a position where he could dream up a worst-case-scenario type of story and tell Brendon that it happened, and Brendon would believe him. (The first idea that came to his mind was telling Brendon he went down on a girl in the corner of the bar and then puked on her.) But, Ryan wasn't an asshole and Brendon had suffered enough, so he said, "You didn't do anything. Flirted with a brunette for a few minutes, then started looking shaky on your feet so I took you out of there."

"You got me out of there, by yourself?"

"Yup."

"Shit. That must've sucked." Brendon's arm was over his eyes again. He looked miserable.

"Well, it wasn't a high point in my life, but you looked like a sick cartoon character. You were turning green. I couldn't find Pete or Zack, so I didn't have much choice."

"I'm really sorry." Brendon said.

"No worries. It happens. You'd do the same for me."

"Yeah, I would."

"How are you feeling now? You should take a shower and brush your teeth, it'll make you feel much better."

"Uggghhhh. Yeah, I know. I'm just afraid to move."

"Just move slowly."

They lay there for a while, not talking, just relaxing. Eventually Brendon found the strength and courage to stand up and go to the bathroom, where he showered for 15 minutes and brushed his teeth for 5, trying to wipe out the memory of how much he'd puked that morning. He came out with a towel wrapped around his waist and rummaged around for some clean clothes in the duffel bag he'd brought. Ryan looked away. He'd seen Brendon almost naked a hundred times, but today it was...different. Goddamn crack in the concrete. Ryan hoped things would start to feel normal again soon.

Never one to be shy, Brendon dropped the towel and pulled on some clean boxer briefs. Then he flopped face down on the bed and said into the mattress, "Okay. That's enough activity for today."

Ryan squelched the urge to run his hand down Brendon's back. He was really getting annoyed with himself. He'd done such a good job refusing to let himself feel any attraction towards Brendon over the past 3 years, but last night had changed the game. Logically, Ryan knew this was stupid, because Brendon had been drunk out of his mind.

Brendon turned his head to look at Ryan, his left cheek flat against the mattress. "What?" he said.

"What, what?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Ryan shook his head. "Like what? I'm not looking at you weird."

Brendon smirked and, adopting a teasing tone, said, "Ryan Ross, were you checking out my ass?"

Ryan could feel his face turning red, and he wanted to kill himself. "Why the fuck would I check out your ass? I've seen it a thousand times."

"Yeah, but it's a pretty fine ass."

"Your modesty astounds me." Ryan said, ignoring the voice in his head that was saying yes, yes it is.

Brendon rolled onto his side and pressed his ass against Ryan's hip, wiggling it a little for emphasis.

"Would you knock it off?" Ryan shouted, but he was laughing.

"You can touch it if you want."

"Fuck off, Brendon. I liked you better when you were too hungover to move."

"Hey, best friends can touch each other's asses, it's a rule." Brendon said. And then he froze.

"What?" Ryan asked.

Brendon slowly moved away and rolled over to look at Ryan. He had a strange expression on his face that Ryan didn't know how to interpret. It was a mixture of disbelief and embarrassment. And then it dawned on Ryan: _he remembers_.

"Last night--" Brendon began, but Ryan cut him off.

"You were blackout drunk. Don't worry about it."

"Yeah, but--"

"No. Let's just forget all about it. Never happened."

"You know..." Brendon said, then hesitated, unsure if he should say what he was about to say. Then he thought, _ah, fuck it_. "Sometimes people say things when they're drunk that they really mean but are too afraid to say when they're sober."

Ryan stared at him. His gaze went to Brendon's mouth and he felt a jolt of electricity travel through him. He forced himself to look away.

"That would be a terrible idea."

"Why? It's just a kiss. Haven't you thought about it before?"

"No." Yes.

"Really? I know you're attracted to guys sometimes. Why not me?"

"Well, for one thing, you're straight."

"Yeah. That's true. Straight...but open-minded. And curious."

Ryan's heart was racing and he told himself to calm the fuck down. This was bad.

"Well...be curious with someone else." He said firmly.

"I don't trust anyone else."

"And I don't trust myself." Ryan said it out loud and he hadn't meant to. He instantly wished he could take it back.

"What do you mean?" Brendon asked, looking intrigued.

Ryan groaned and put his hands over his face. Speaking into his palms, he said. "Nothing, Brendon. Can we please just forget about this?"

"No." Brendon said, and sat up. "I really want to know."

Ryan knew him well enough to know that he wasn't going to let it go until he got an answer. Ryan just needed time to think about what to say, because he didn't want to say too much.

"It's just--" he began, then stopped.

"Go onnnn..." Brendon encouraged.

"It's just that...well, we're best friends. And we're together ALL the time."

"Uh huh...get to the point..."

In a rush, Ryan blurted, "What happens if the kiss becomes more than just a kiss?"

Brendon laughed, as if he thought the notion was ludicrous. "Ryan, it wouldn't go further than that. I'm not gay."

"Then why do you want to kiss me? What am I missing here?"

Brendon moved closer to him, until their faces were just a few inches apart. "Because you're a beautiful man. And--" he dropped his gaze to Ryan's mouth, "--you have a nice mouth."

Ryan's cock stirred, which only proved his point. If he kissed Brendon, he was going to want to do more to Brendon. And that couldn't happen.

"I can't." He said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I want to, but--"

"If you want to, then do it."

Ryan could feel his willpower dissolving. He licked his lips, feeling nervous but excited. Slowly, he moved his mouth closer to Brendon's. Brendon closed his eyes and--

Someone knocked on the bedroom door and they both jumped away from each other. Pete called out, "Hey guys, it's almost 5 o'clock. Did Brendon make it through the night?"

Ryan said, "You can come in." Pete opened the door and leaned against the door frame. "Yeah, he made it through the night. You should definitely make him clean your toilet before he leaves, though."

Pete laughed. "Worshiping at the porcelain throne, huh? I saw that coming. I'm just happy it didn't end up on my floor."

"Pfft." Brendon scoffed. "I'm a pro, I always make it to the toilet."

"Well, _that's_ something to be proud of." Pete joked sarcastically. "Anyway, we're ordering pizza, what do you guys want?"

"Pepperoni." Brendon responded, and Ryan nodded, glad to see that Brendon had his appetite back.

"Pepperoni it is. See you in a bit." And Pete left, closing the door behind him.

"Where did we leave off?" Brendon asked, leaning in. But the spell had been broken, and Ryan shook his head vigorously.

"Not happening."

"What the fuck?" Brendon asked, but not angrily. "You were totally gonna kiss me!"

"I was _tempted_ , yes. Now I remember that I don't want to."

"You said you wanted to!"

"I _thought_ I wanted to. But I really don't."

"You are SO full of shit!" Brendon exclaimed. He grabbed a pillow and smacked Ryan square in the face with it. Ryan yelped and ripped the pillow out of his hands, then proceeded to smash Brendon with it repeatedly. It was especially satisfying because Brendon was still too hungover to do much to defend himself. By the time he stopped, they were both laughing and out of breath.

"Come on." Ryan said, grabbing Brendon's hand to pull him up, "Get some clothes on and let's go join the other guys."


	3. The Road to Hell

They stuffed themselves with pizza, then played Guitar Hero for a couple of hours. Around 9 o'clock, Pete said, "So, we goin' out somewhere or what?"

Brendon grimaced. "Dude, I'm out. Last night almost killed me," he said.

Everybody else wanted to go out, but Ryan was torn. He was tempted to go, but he'd feel guilty about leaving Brendon alone, sitting around doing nothing. Also, getting to bed at a decent hour sounded like a good plan. He guessed they'd probably end up crashing at Pete's place again, and made a mental note to buy a toothbrush.

"I'll stay behind too," Ryan said, ignoring Brendon when he quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Suit yourselves. See ya in the morning!" Pete said, and then they were gone.

Brendon wandered over to Pete's DVD rack. "I have an idea," he said.

"Oh boy. Here we go."

"Nah, I was just thinking that we should get baked and watch a movie."

"You have weed?"

"Of _course_ I have weed, dumb-dumb."

Ryan had to admit it was a stupid question. "Okay," he agreed. "Let's do it."

They spent a few minutes looking through the DVD collection, finally selecting The Ring. Brendon was a horror movie fanatic, even though they scared the living shit out of him. Then Brendon went to roll a couple joints.

For the first few minutes of the movie they sat in companionable silence, just watching and smoking. It was really good weed and Ryan felt loose and relaxed. And happy. He could tell from Brendon's pupils and the goofy smile on his face that he was feeling good too.

Ryan got up and made some microwave popcorn (extra butter, of course) and brought it back to the living room with a couple of Cokes. Scary shit was starting to go down in the movie, and Brendon jumped so hard that he spilled Coke all over his shirt. "Godammit," he laughed. Ryan went to get a wet kitchen towel, and then leaned down over Brendon and rubbed at the stain.

"Why do I feel like all I do lately is take care of you like you're a little kid or something?"

"Because I'm freakin' adorable and you love me."

"You're high."

Brendon cackled maniacally. "You're high too, Ross!"

"True," Ryan conceded. Suddenly Brendon grabbed his wrists and pulled him forward until their noses were almost touching.

"I just want you to think about this, okay?" Brendon said and pressed his mouth to Ryan's. It was a sweet, soft, innocent kiss, their lips parted only slightly, no tongue involved, and then Brendon immediately backed off. "Just think about it."

Ryan was reeling. That was -- that was _hot_. It shouldn't have been that hot, it was so quick and benign, not outrightly sexual, which in some strange way made it more sexual.

Brendon interrupted his thoughts by saying, "Well, are you just going to stand there? Move over, you're blocking the TV."

Ryan stopped gaping at him and returned to his spot on the couch. He tried to focus on the movie again but his mind was all over the place. He re-lit the joint that he'd put out halfway through, and inhaled deeply. This was bad.

He glanced over to see Brendon sitting with his arms crossed over his damp t-shirt, a smirk on his face. "What the hell are you smiling about?" Ryan demanded.

"You liked it."

"Did not." Ryan countered, sounding like a petulant child.

"Did too. And right now? Right now you're thinking about what it would be like to have my tongue in your mouth."

Ryan was halfway through another drag on the joint and he burst out into a coughing fit. Brendon threw his head back and laughed. Ryan didn't want to kiss him; Ryan wanted to punch him.

"You fucking wish," he said as soon as he was able to stop choking.

"Okay, then. Stay in denial if you want to."

Once the movie ended it was almost midnight and Ryan said, "I'm going to bed." In spite of having slept half the day away, he was still feeling tired from pulling the all-nighter.

"Yeah, I guess I will too. Where you gonna sleep now that you don't have to keep a puke-vigil over me?" Brendon asked.

"The couch, I guess. I don't know what rooms everyone else is sleeping in, so I figure the couch is my best bet."

Ryan thought he saw a flash of disappointment on Brendon's face, but it was gone so quickly that he convinced himself he'd imagined it.

"Alright. G'night." And Brendon headed off to the bedroom they'd shared the night before.

Ryan went in search of extra blankets and found some in the bathroom linen closet. He also lucked out and found an extra toothbrush in the top bathroom drawer, still in its package. Realizing he hadn't showered that day, he decided to take a quick one. His clean clothes were in the room Brendon had gone to, so he wasn't about to go get them. Instead he put on the same boxer briefs and t-shirt he'd worn that day. He brushed his teeth and returned to the living room, where he spread a blanket on the couch and lay down, then pulled another blanket over himself.

The couch was surprisingly comfortable, but sleep wouldn't come. He lay there for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about the kiss. The whole situation had disaster written all over it, and he hated Brendon for getting the ball rolling. Suddenly furious, he threw the blanket off himself, got up, and made his way to where Brendon was sleeping.

In the doorway, he hesitated. He could tell by Brendon's deep, slow breathing that he was asleep. At this point, Ryan had a choice to make: he could turn back now and continue his sleepless night, or he could push forward and give Brendon a taste of his own fucking medicine, which was probably a really, really bad idea.

He pushed forward. He crept toward the bed, not wanting to wake Brendon. He was planning to wake him, but not from noise. That would ruin his plan. As gently as possible, he crawled into the bed, under the covers, then stayed very still for a minute to be sure Brendon was still sleeping. He was.

Ryan waited until his eyes had fully adjusted to the dark and he was able to make out Brendon's features. He was out cold, obviously needing the rest after the previous night. Ryan needed to do this now, before he came to his senses.

He leaned forward and softly kissed the corner of Brendon's mouth, then moved a little lower and placed gentle, chaste kisses along his jawline. After a few seconds, Brendon sighed in his sleep and began to stir. That's when Ryan went in for the kill.

He captured Brendon's mouth with his own, and this time there was nothing innocent about it. Brendon, still half asleep, parted his lips automatically and slipped his tongue into Ryan's mouth. Ryan moaned involuntarily and Brendon's eyes flew open, his body stiffening for a minute. Then he saw that it was Ryan, and he smiled and slid closer to him on the bed, deepening the kiss, grabbing the back of Ryan's head and taking control.

Ryan couldn't believe how good it felt. Brendon was an amazing kisser; from his soft, full lips, to the perfect amount of pressure, to the impeccable give-and-take of tongue play. He felt like he could kiss him for hours if he had the chance.

Ryan became painfully aware of two things: 1: Brendon was completely naked under the covers, and 2: Ryan's cock was incredibly hard. And that was not good. That was exactly what he was afraid of.

Brendon slid even closer and pressed himself against Ryan, and that was when Ryan became aware of one more thing. Brendon was hard too. He was hard...for Ryan.

Gasping, Ryan broke the kiss and pulled back. His sole intention had been to wake Brendon up, give him the kiss of a lifetime, say, "There, you happy now?" and walk out. _What was that old saying_? He thought. _The road to hell is paved with good intentions._  He now understood the meaning behind that.

Brendon had a goddamn smirk on his face again. "That was very nice, Ross," he purred. "But look at you now. Freaking out much?"

"Shut up," Ryan replied, hating how breathless he sounded. "I just gave you what you asked for. Now you can stop begging me for it. I'm going back to the couch."

Brendon laughed. "Okay. G'night, Ry."

"G'night, asshole," Ryan responded. The sound of Brendon laughing followed him as he fled the room.


	4. Tour Rules

Ryan tossed and turned on the couch for the next two hours, sleeping on and off. The other guys returned home sometime around 3:00 in the morning and didn't even attempt to be quiet as they made their way to their beds. After that, he somehow managed to get a few solid hours of sleep.

He was woken in the late morning by someone grabbing his foot and shaking it.

"Hey, Ryan." It was Brendon, in full-on wise-ass mode. "Hey! Ry, wake up. I had the strangest fuckin' dream last night."

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut tighter than they already were and decided that once he was fully awake, he was going to kill Brendon. At this point that would solve 99% of his problems.

"I know you're awa-a-aake," Brendon singsonged. Ryan responded by yanking his foot out of Brendon's grasp, which only made him laugh.

"Go. The fuck. Away." Ryan said, carefully enunciating each word.

"Nope. I gotta tell you about this dream."

"I don't want to hear it."

Brendon flopped down on top of Ryan, placing his full weight on him. Ryan grunted. "Get. The fuck. Off."

"So, in this dream," Brendon began, "Some hot guy woke me up and started making out with me--"

Ryan struggled until he managed to throw a hip against Brendon, knocking him off. If Ryan hadn't have been so pissed off, he would have laughed when he heard Brendon's muffled "oomph!" as he hit the floor. Ryan stood up, threw his blanket in Brendon's face, and headed for the bathroom. Brendon jumped to his feet and followed, blurting, "--and the guy looked JUST LIKE YOU!" one second before Ryan slammed the bathroom door in his face.

Ryan stared self-loathingly at his reflection in the mirror. Last night hadn't gone as planned, but he couldn't put his finger on why he'd even  _done_  that in the first place. What was he hoping to accomplish by kissing his best friend? He obviously hadn't been thinking clearly.

There was a knock on the door and he shouted, "Go away, Brendon, I'm serious!"

"It's me," came Zack's voice. "Get ready, we need to be outta here in a half hour. Hotel check-in this evening and then interviews."

Ryan groaned and dragged his palms down his face. It was going to be a long day.

*****

 

The day ended up passing quicker than he expected. Zack dropped them all off at their own apartments, where they each spent a couple of hours packing. That evening, Zack was driving them to a hotel in the city. After check-in, they had a couple of interviews to do. The following day, they'd be hopping on the tour bus and heading to the venue for rehearsal, soundcheck and the first show of the tour, then sleeping on the bus and, in the morning, driving the four hours to the next stop.

The first interview was for a local radio station and went by uneventfully. The second one was a live television broadcast on MTV, which Ryan found slightly nerve-wracking. They were still fairly new to this, and he knew how many things could go wrong on live television.

The first five minutes went by without incident as they answered the usual questions about what fans could expect from the upcoming tour and which songs were their personal favorites from the new album. That's when the perky blonde VJ leaned conspiratorially toward them and said, "So...I have to ask. Fans have long questioned your sexuality, and with the recent surfacing of these photos on the internet, their curiosity is at an all time high." The screen behind her suddenly lit up with a projected image of Ryan on his knees on the table in front of Brendon, his hands undoing the button of his jeans. "What do you have to say regarding all the gay rumors surrounding your band? "

Ryan was halfway through taking a sip from the bottle of water that MTV had provided for him, and he almost choked. It wasn't the first time the band had been asked about their sexual orientation; in fact, it was (rudely, in Ryan's opinion) becoming one of the more common things they were asked. He was just caught off guard this time because of the incident from last night.

He was saved from having to respond because Brendon had already started talking. "Oh, it's totally true," he told the VJ, his tone dead serious. 

Her eyes widened in surprise. This would be the scoop of a lifetime. "So you're admitting it?" she asked, sounding apprehensive but eager.

"Oh, yeah. I mean, Ryan and I made out last night." 

A few seconds passed while the woman tried to formulate a follow up question, but then Brendon and the other guys started laughing, letting her off the hook. Brendon shook his head and said, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding." Ryan joined in with laughter that he hoped didn't sound as forced as it felt. For the second time that day, he decided he was going to _kill_  Brendon when he had a chance.

*****

That night they all had their own hotel rooms and Ryan was glad to be alone. He knew from experience that once they were on the tour bus it would be nearly impossible to have time alone, so he was going to try and enjoy it while he had the chance.

He threw himself onto the bed and attempted to lose himself in a stupid reality show on TV. He wished he had weed, but there was no way he was going to call Brendon and ask if he still had some. He tried calling Jon and Spencer to see if they had any, but Jon didn't answer and Spencer had just finished the last of his.

Ryan's goal for this tour was to get his friendship with Brendon back on an even keel, although Brendon didn't seem fazed at all by the latest developments. Was he really so clueless as to why this could turn into a major problem? Things would be very different if the kiss had ended up being funny, the way Ryan had intended it to be. But there was _nothing_ funny about that kiss.

Lulled by the sound of the television, he was drifting off to sleep when there was a knock at his door, making him jump. He considered ignoring it, but curiosity got the better of him and he padded over to look through the peephole. The only thing he could see was a giant eyeball staring back at him. A giant _brown_  eyeball. He knew that eyeball. He yanked the door open and Brendon nearly fell into the room, laughing.

Ryan shut the door, shook his head and said, "I swear to God you're still 10 years old. Putting your eyeball up against the peephole? Seriously?"

Brendon was still laughing. "Dude. What was I _supposed_ to do, just stand in the hallway pretending I didn't know you were going to look through the peephole? Where's the fun in that?"

"It's, like, the most unoriginal joke ever."

"Whatever. It made _me_  laugh. Get a sense of humor."

Ryan crossed his arms over his chest. "Speaking of laughing -- what the _fuck_  were you thinking when you pulled that shit during that interview today?"

Brendon's expression instantly changed to one of pure innocence. "What do you mean? Which interview? Which part? I know I lied when the guy asked me what my favorite food is, but I dunno, I just thought that was kinda personal--"

"You know what I'm talking about. The joke. About...us," Ryan interrupted.

"What about us?" Brendon's mock ignorance was infuriating.

"Never mind," Ryan said. He didn't have the patience for this tonight. "What are you doing here?"

Brendon reached into the front pocket of his jeans and brought out a small bag of weed. "I was bored. And Spencer told me you were looking for some of this."

Damn. Ryan was torn between feeling delighted about the weed and annoyed that his time alone had been interrupted. Also, he highly suspected that Brendon had an ulterior motive for being there. A few long seconds passed while he tried to figure out how to react.

Never the most patient person in the world, Brendon shook the baggie in Ryan's face. "Well? Do you want to smoke with me or not?"

"I want to smoke," Ryan began. "But I wanted to smoke alone."

Undeterred, Brendon shrugged and went to the dresser to start rolling joints. "Then I guess you should've brought your own weed, huh? 'Cause this stuff here is a package deal. You want it, you have to want to hang out with me too. Sorry, bro."

Ryan's frustration level hit its peak. "Brendon," he snapped. "What are we doing?"

Brendon glanced up at him, and spoke like he was talking to a very slow person. "Uhh... _I'm_ rolling a joint, and _you're_ standing there drooling about the prospect of smoking one. Or _maybe..._ " he let his voice drift off.

"Maybe _what_?"

"Maybe you're drooling over _me_." Brendon winked exaggeratedly at him, then burst out laughing at the look of sheer anger that instantly clouded Ryan's features.

"Holy shit, Ry, you are wound way too fucking tight. You need this joint more than you know, my friend."

Ryan knew it was true, but he also knew that the  _reason_  he was wound so tight was the boy standing right in front of him. It was a classic catch-22. He gave an almost imperceptible nod and flopped down on the bed again, telling himself that he was going to smoke one of the joints and then kick Brendon the hell out of his room. It wasn't a matter of using his friend for weed, he thought. It was a matter of calming himself down with the help of nature's friendliest plant, and then _preserving_ their friendship.

*****

A half hour later they were both high as kites, giggling over everything on TV. Ryan was sprawled on one double bed, Brendon on the other. For the first time since the kiss and the interview, things felt normal, and Ryan forgot about his intention to kick Brendon out. He was almost convinced that he'd imagined the tension between them. Maybe the kiss _had_  been funny. Maybe they _hadn't_  both been turned on by it. Maybe he'd just freaked out over nothing.

That's why he was taken aback when the show they were watching ended and Brendon got up and walked over, stretching out casually alongside Ryan, who froze. "What are you doing?"

Brendon turned onto his left side to face Ryan. "I'm not doing anything. You just looked sorta lonely. And maybe a little cold." He slung his right arm and leg across Ryan, as if to keep him warm with his own body heat.

"Well, I'm not lonely _or_  cold, so you can just go back to the other bed." Ryan said, trying to sound as stoic as possible.

He was getting ready to shove against Brendon and push him onto the floor for the second time that day, but Brendon suddenly pressed his face into Ryan's hair and whispered, "What are you so afraid of?"

Ryan closed his eyes and forced himself to count to ten, resisting the powerful urge to turn his face toward Brendon, grab him by the back of his head, and violently kiss him. That would be one way to release some of his anger from the day, but he managed to keep his wits about him and stay focused on the big picture.

"Why _aren't_  you afraid?" he asked Brendon, his eyes still squeezed shut. "This has the potential to ruin a lot of things. Our friendship. The band."

"Why would it ruin anything?" Brendon's mouth trailed down to his jawline, where he repeated the action that Ryan had used on him the night before: slow, soft kisses from his ear to the corner of Ryan's mouth.

Ryan counted to ten again, trying not to react, even though his body was betraying him and he could feel himself getting hard.

"Technically," Brendon continued, "Tonight is the first night of tour, so tour rules apply here."

Ryan knew exactly what he was referring to.  _Tour rule #1: What happens on tour, stays on tour._ He somehow managed to speak in a rational, calm tone."That rule only applies when what happens on tour is between us and people on the outside. What happens _within_  the band doesn't just get cancelled out when tour ends."

"Who says it has to get cancelled out?" Brendon replied, and rocked his hips so that his erection was pressed firmly against Ryan's side. Ryan let out a muffled groan, struggling to keep a grasp on his common sense.

He tried pulling away, just an inch or so, but Brendon had him where he wanted him and wasn't about to give up that easily. Brendon slid his right hand slowly down Ryan's stomach, then lower, hesitating for what was only a few seconds but felt like an eternity before he went lower still and palmed Ryan's hard dick through his pants.

" _Fuck_ ," Ryan gasped, involuntarily pushing up into his hand. He fought to remember the reason he was fighting this.

"Brendon, you're -- you're _straight_. Why are you messing with my head?"

"Which head do you mean?" Brendon asked, and playfully squeezed Ryan's cock.

Ryan thrust up into his hand again, mentally swearing at himself for doing it. "You're _straight_ ," he repeated, trying to get his point across before he lost all control.

"Straight, yeah. But I told you -- I'm _curious_." Brendon ground his hard-on into Ryan's hip again. "Can't you feel how curious I am?"

And that was it. Ryan broke. He shifted his hip to meet Brendon's thrust and turned his face, grabbing a handful of hair at the back of Brendon's head and crushing their mouths together. It was an angry, heated kiss, an outlet for the frustration he'd been feeling the entire day. So Brendon was bi-curious? Well, Ryan had a few tricks up his sleeve, and if he did things right, he'd leave none of Brendon's curiosity unanswered.

_The road to hell is paved with good intentions._


	5. First (and Fast) Times

Ryan rolled Brendon onto his back and climbed up to straddle him. Leaning forward to resume the kiss, he gently rocked his hips into Brendon's, their erections pressing together through their jeans. Brendon let out a sinful sounding moan, causing Ryan to moan too, and start slowly grinding into him. The friction was overwhelming and Brendon gripped Ryan's hips, forcing him to stop for a minute.  
  
Ryan looked at him, thinking _he can't possibly be close already_ , just as Brendon said, "This is too much, we need to slow down. I didn't expect it to be this..."  
  
"Good?" Ryan filled in for him. Brendon laughed low in his throat and answered, "Yeah. This good."  
  
Ryan wanted to show Brendon all kinds of things that men could do to one another, but in that moment he decided there would be plenty of time for that later. Right now it would be more fun to see how quickly he could put Brendon over the edge. He got into a kneeling position between Brendon's legs. Brendon sighed with relief for a second; he really needed a break from that friction in order to keep from coming. But then his eyes widened as he watched Ryan unbutton and unzip his own jeans, pulling his cock out and giving it a few strokes. Brendon groaned lustfully. He had no idea how exciting it would be to watch someone else jerk off.  
  
Then Ryan went for the button on Brendon's jeans, popped it open, slowly tugged the zipper down, and slid his hand into the waistband of his boxers. He jerked his own cock with his left hand, and wrapped his right hand around Brendon's dick. He was leaking and Ryan smeared the pre-cum down his shaft to slick it up. "Fuck, Ryan, oh my God you're making me come," Brendon said in a rush, and the words were barely out of his mouth before he was shooting hot cum into his boxers, all over his lower stomach and Ryan's hands. His entire body was wracked with spasms, the orgasm was so powerful. Ryan smiled, proud of himself. He didn't think it would be _that_  quick, but it turned him on like crazy. As Brendon lay there panting and recovering, Ryan leaned over him, removed his cum-slicked right hand from Brendon's pants, and gripped his own cock with it. He began stroking faster and harder until he was seconds away from exploding. He thought that coming on Brendon's face might be moving too fast; after all, this _was_  his first male/male sexual encounter. Instead he gasped, "Pull your shirt up. Pull it up, quick, Brendon!" Brendon did as he was asked just in time for Ryan to reach orgasm, spurting his cum all over Brendon's stomach and chest. He was amazed to see how much he came, it was at least 6 or 7 strong bursts before he finally fell forward onto the bed, trying to catch his breath.  
  
After a few minutes, Brendon said, "That was -- that was--"  
  
"Good?" Ryan once again supplied for him.  
  
"That was fucking _hot_."  
  
"Just wait until you see what else we can do once we're ready for round two."  
  
Brendon raised an eyebrow. "So...a half hour ago you were saying this is a bad idea. Now you're saying there's going to be a round two?"  
  
"Well, _somebody_  has to teach you how to build up your stamina. Might as well be me."  
  
Brendon actually blushed. "Shut up," he murmured. "That was my first time, guy-wise."  
  
"I know, I know. Honestly, I was deliberately trying to see how fast I could make you come. It was fun."  
  
"You're an ass," Brendon laughed.  
  
"Like you're surprised by that. You've known me long enough. Of course I'm an ass," Ryan replied, punctuating his statement by smacking Brendon on the ass.  
  
Brendon flinched but laughed. "I need to get out of these gross boxers. Then I need a nap."  
  
Within 15 minutes, they were curled up on the bed together, dozing off.


	6. Curiouser and Curiouser...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just more smut, because I'm in a dirty-minded mood today. ;)

Ryan was woken up in the middle of the night by Brendon's hand trailing lightly down his stomach. He made a satisfied humming sound and murmured, "What are you doing?"  
  
"Well," Brendon said, "You said you wanted to help build up my stamina." He took Ryan's hand and guided it to his hard-on. "And I'm ready for my next lesson."  
  
Ryan moaned, instantly aroused. "You really _are_  curious, aren't you?"  
  
"Curiouser and curiouser..." he gave a lopsided grin and thrust into Ryan's hand. Ryan instinctively tightened his grip and rolled to face Brendon.  
  
He gave him a searching look even as his hand began to stroke. "I just need to know something."  
  
"What?" Brendon said on a moan, stretching out on his back with his eyes closed, relaxing into the sensation of being jerked off.  
  
"Seeing as you're straight...how far do you really want this experimentation to go?"  
  
Brendon opened one eye and peered at him. "I never really thought about it. I guess we'll just...see where it goes?"  
  
Ryan leaned forward, needing to kiss him. The kiss was slow and gentle, his hand continuing its steady motion down below. "Just tell me if there's anything you start feeling uncomfortable with."  
  
Brendon, noting the seriousness of Ryan's tone, nodded his head. "I promise I will."  
  
With that, Ryan abruptly removed his hand, causing Brendon to curse in protest before he realized that Ryan was moving down the bed. He felt a brief flicker of panic. A handjob was one thing; a blowjob just seemed more intimate, and he wasn't sure --  
  
And then the only thought on his mind was, _oh God_. His erection was curved up, nearly reaching his navel, and Ryan had begun licking his stomach around it. He was giving Brendon a minute to decide if he wanted to protest, and he got his answer a few seconds later in the form of Brendon's hands gently caressing his head and guiding his mouth to his aching cock.  
  
Ryan took him deep into his mouth and Brendon arched his back and gave a long moan. " _Jesus Christ_ , Ryan..."  
  
Ryan smiled around him, flattening his tongue against the underside of his shaft and slurping on him like a popsicle. He encircled the base of Brendon's cock with his hand, and began blowing him in earnest, sucking up and all the way back down again, his hand following the motion.  
  
Brendon shoved his hands into Ryan's hair and pulled, hard, then pushed his head down roughly. Ryan groaned in pleasure and pain and took Brendon all the way into the back of his throat.  
  
"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." Brendon cried out, sounding wrecked. Ryan hummed against his skin and the added vibration sent a burst of heat spreading through Brendon's abdomen. He grabbed Ryan's hair again, this time yanking it in an attempt to pull him up, but Ryan was relentless. He sucked noisily upward, and jerked his hand up at the same time, twisting his palm over the head of Brendon's dick. He repeated the motion again and again, until Brendon was nearly writhing on the bed.  
  
" _Ryan."_ It was a warning, but Ryan didn't need one. He wanted all of Brendon and he was ready for it, and he knew Brendon was at the point of no return. He slid his mouth all the way down again and Brendon came violently, thrusting into Ryan's mouth with enough force to make him gag, but then Ryan opened his throat and swallowed it all as Brendon panted, "Holy fucking _fuck_ , Ryan, holy shit."  
  
Brendon tugged his hair again, this time gently, and pulled Ryan up for a rough kiss. Ryan was a little surprised by this; he didn't think Brendon would want to taste his own come, but apparently he was wrong. It was interesting to learn the things lovers would do when they were turned on enough.  
  
Ryan thrust his own throbbing erection against Brendon's stomach. He was so hard it was almost painful. He was wondering if Brendon would return the favor, or if he'd have to take care of it himself, when Brendon spoke up. "Where's the lube?" he whispered.  
  
Ryan's eyes flew open. Lube? "Wha--?"  
  
"Just, where's the lube?" Brendon repeated calmly.  
  
Not having any idea where this was heading, and worrying that it was too much too soon, Ryan got off the bed and returned with a bottle of lubricant. He handed it to Brendon, who gestured for Ryan to lay back down on top of him. He squeezed some lube into his palm and reached down between them, slicking Ryan's cock up completely, then using his slippery palm to press Ryan's erection tightly against Brendon's stomach. Then he began a slow, rocking rhythm. The friction, the pressure, and the heat of their bodies rubbing together was nearly overwhelming. Ryan moaned and sighed, thrusting himself harder and harder between Brendon's hand and stomach. Within seconds, he was tensing up and coming hard, the first white streak reaching all the way up Brendon's chest. Brendon stroked him through it until Ryan shuddered and rolled off of him, quivering with aftershocks.  
  
"Good?" Brendon asked, almost shyly.  
  
"Fucking amazing." Ryan answered, flinging an arm across his eyes.  
  
Brendon went and got a warm, wet towel to clean them both up with. Then he lay back down beside Ryan and pulled him close. "I'm sorry I didn't go down on you."  
  
"Hey -- that's ok. I told you, whatever you're comfortable with."  
  
"I know. Thanks. I'm just -- I just, um...just not yet. But maybe --"  
  
"Shhh," Ryan said. "Let's just sleep."  
  
A few minutes later, right before they drifted off, Ryan whispered, "I noticed a slight improvement on your stamina."  
  
Brendon chuckled sleepily. "We'll keep practicing."


	7. Verbal Darts

In the morning, Ryan woke up and was surprised to find himself alone in bed. Brendon had somehow managed to get up, get dressed, and let himself out while Ryan slept. He frowned and tried to convince himself that he wasn't even the tiniest bit bothered by it, but he couldn't lie to himself. He mentally shook it off and got out of bed, heading for the shower. It was the first day of tour.

He had to cut his shower short when he heard someone pounding on his door. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he dripped a path across the carpet as he went to look through the peephole, fully expecting to see a big brown eyeball again. Instead, it was Zack. Ryan opened the door a crack and said, "Hey, I'm just drying off. What's up? What time do we have to leave?"

"We have to be on the bus in an hour. Rehearsal, then a couple hours of down time, then soundcheck and the show," Zack told him. "I'm going downstairs to hit the breakfast buffet, you want me to bring you anything?"

"Uhhh...just coffee, I guess. Oh, and maybe a muffin or something. Blueberry, chocolate chip, whatever they have."

 Zack nodded. "You got it. I'll be back in a bit."

*********

The first venue on the tour was ten minutes away from the hotel. The band, crew and equipment took up five buses. Four of them were plain and beige on the outside, while the fifth one -- the one the band and Zack occupied -- was painted with the band's logo. Ryan always felt a strange mix of pride and scorn when he looked at the bus: pride because they'd come this far, and scorn because it seemed stupid that their bus wasn't beige like the others. Were they deliberately _trying_  to entice fans to scream and chase after them at the end of every show? Wouldn't it be smarter to leave the logo off the bus and be a bit more inconspicuous? Sometimes Ryan couldn't help shaking his head whenever he looked at it.

They checked out of the hotel and started boarding the buses. Ryan was the last one to board and it appeared the rest of the band had already been on the bus for a while. They were relaxing in the lounge, watching TV and snacking on Pirate's Booty. When he saw Brendon he felt a bolt of desire, a longing to straddle him on the couch and make out with him. _Fuck_ , he thought. _This is not good._  

Brendon caught his eye and winked at him. The motherfucker _winked._  What if the other guys saw that? Ryan hadn't even had time to recover from it when Brendon said, "Well, look at _you_. You're all glowy. You got some last night, didn't you, Ross?"

Ryan's mouth dropped open for a second before he realized what he must look like. Pulling himself together, he said, "I don't know what you're talking about. I fell asleep watching TV."

"I dunno," Brendon said, shaking his head slowly. "I walked past your room pretty late last night and unless you were watching porn, those sounds were definitely not coming from the TV."

Ryan was starting to think that if he earned a dime for every time he thought _I'm going to kill Brendon_  lately, he'd be a very rich man and could quit the band and go live on a tropical island somewhere. An island without Brendon on it. Nary a Brendon as far as the eye could see.

But, since that wasn't a possibility yet, Ryan decided to change tactics. Two could play this game.

"Ok, yeah. I got some. It just wasn't worth mentioning because it wasn't that great. She was a little too...inexperienced."

Brendon didn't miss a beat. Ever the actor, he arranged his face into an expression of confusion. "It was a _she_? Are you sure about that? Because I should have specified that it sounded like _gay_  porn."

_I'm going to kill him_ , Ryan thought, mentally collecting a dime. 

Spencer and Jon hadn't been paying much attention to the conversation, but now they were both looking up with interest. Everyone knew that Ryan occasionally hooked up with other men, and none of them had a problem with it. Still, if they knew that Ryan _and Brendon_  were the ones hooking up, well, that was a game-changer. It needed to be kept secret and Ryan was going to do everything in his power to make that happen.

Ryan went in for the kill. He scoffed at Brendon and said, "Dude, I wish it _had_  been a guy. I went down on her and she wouldn't even return the favor. Guys, on the other hand, usually love giving blowjobs."

Verbal dart, meet bullseye. Brendon's eyes darkened and Ryan felt a pang of regret. He'd been the one who'd told Brendon last night that he didn't have to do anything he wasn't ready for; and now here he was throwing it in his face. Ryan wanted to apologize, but then he remembered that Brendon had started this whole thing (not just the banter -- the _whole entire situation_ ). He shrugged off his feeling of remorse and waited for whatever insult Brendon would undoubtedly hurl back at him.

Brendon, though, seemed momentarily speechless. Finally, he simply said, "Yeah, that does suck. Well...like you said, she was inexperienced. Maybe she's just never done it before."

And just like that, Ryan felt like the world's biggest asshole. He stammered, "Oh yeah. Yeah, I know, I didn't mean -- I knew she --"

"Maybe she was scared of your monster sized cock," Jon chose that moment to chime in. It was a lame joke but Spencer laughed like it was hilarious. Ryan glanced back at Brendon, but he had shifted his gaze back to the television. The conversation was clearly over.

*********

Ryan wanted a minute alone with him to apologize, but there was never any privacy on the tour bus, and once they got to the venue they were surrounded by the crew as they all began unloading the equipment. Before he knew it, it was time for rehearsal. The venue's rehearsal space was smaller than what they were used to, but it was nice enough. Things went fairly smoothly. As always, there were a few times that Ryan felt the urge to coach Brendon on how to deliver a lyric, but he did something he'd never done before: he bit his tongue and didn't say a word. Brendon had been quiet for the entire bus ride and it was obvious he wasn't in the best mood.

When they broke for a late lunch/early dinner, they were once again surrounded by people. He kept trying to meet Brendon's eyes so he could gesture for him to separate himself from the group, but Brendon never once looked his way. The more time passed, the worse Ryan felt.

At soundcheck, Brendon was downright bitchy. He complained about the volume of Ryan's microphone and the pitch of his voice during back-up vocals. Jon and Spencer were starting to look concerned and confused -- it was the first day of tour and Brendon _loved_  being on tour. It made no sense to them why he was being such a grouch.

It was 30 minutes before show time and they'd just finished changing into stage clothes when Ryan finally got the opportunity to be alone in a room with Brendon. He closed the door behind them. Brendon looked up, noticed that they were alone, and immediately held up his hand. "Don't worry about it," he said shortly.

"Brendon, I --"

" _Don't_ , I said."

"Look, last night was incredible," Ryan said quickly, trying to get all the words out before Brendon had another chance to cut him off.

Brendon gave a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, but it would have been even _more_  incredible if _she_  hadn't been too chickenshit to suck your dick."

"It was pretty damn incredible just the way it was," Ryan said.

Brendon regarded him with a look Ryan couldn't quite decipher. It looked almost like disgust. Then Brendon spoke. "You were right. This was a mistake."

Verbal dart, meet bullseye. Ryan flinched. "Brendon, no."

"Yes. It was a mistake. I'm sorry I didn't leave well enough alone."

"It wasn't a --"

"We have a show in 15 minutes. I'll talk to you later." With that, Brendon pushed his way past Ryan, opened the door, and walked out.

*********

Two hours later, Ryan linked fingers with Brendon's on one side and Jon's on the other as they raised their arms together and took a bow at the edge of the stage. The second the bow was over, Brendon forcibly yanked his hand away from Ryan's and walked as quickly off the stage as possible, trying to put distance between the two of them.

The show had been...different. The crowd was enthusiastic and the band had performed almost perfectly considering it was the first show of the tour and glitches were expected.  The reason things were different was that Brendon had avoided all of the usual stage-gay antics they were so famous for. Ryan was sure that a majority of the crowd must have been disappointed by that, and he was inwardly seething.

Once offstage, however, Jon and Spencer were _outwardly_  seething. "Brendon, what the fuck was that about?" Jon demanded as he toweled off his sweaty hair.

"What was what about?" Brendon asked flatly.

"You dropped the act. No 'running through a field toward your lover' fun stuff. The crowd dies for that stuff and you know it."

Brendon shrugged. "I just thought maybe you guys wanted me to stop with that. All the rumors and bullshit, it seemed like maybe it was getting to be too much."

" _What_?!" Spencer shouted. "We just did a fucking interview where you jokingly told the world the rumors were _true_!"

"Well, maybe I regretted it afterward."

"Well, maybe the next time you regret something, you should let the rest of us know that you're planning to change the show because of it." Jon ranted.

"I hardly _changed the show_. I eliminated one 15-second stupid, scripted speech. It was getting old anyway."

"You know what, Brendon?" Spencer said. "I don't know what's gotten into you today, but maybe you should go have a drink, take a nap, or, I don't know...get _laid_? I don't really give a shit _what_  you do, but find a way to snap out of it. I want that stupid, scripted speech back in the show tomorrow night."

Brendon glared at him and tapped a finger against his lips as though he was deeply pondering Spencer's words. "Hmmm. Get laid. You know what? That's the best idea I've heard all day." He brushed past his bandmates, pausing only to grab his phone and wallet from the table where he'd left them. 

"Brendon!" Ryan called, his tone urgent. He hoped Brendon would stop or at least hesitate, but instead he merely raised his right hand and flipped Ryan off without looking back as he stormed out of the room.

*********

Back on the tour bus, Ryan was restless and on edge. Brendon had been gone for hours. It was nearly 2 in the morning and the only thing he knew was that Brendon had texted Zack and said he'd taken a cab "out" and would be back in the morning. Zack was annoyed; it was his job to make sure the band members stayed safe, and Brendon had no right going out without him. He could get in a fight, he could get mobbed by crazy fans, there were any number of things that could go wrong when he was alone in public.

Ryan tried calling Brendon's cell, but of course it went to voicemail. Ryan sent him a text asking him to let them know he was safe, but got no reply.

Jon and Spencer had gone to sleep, exhausted from the full day. Zack was still awake. He'd debated whether or not to go out looking for Brendon, but ultimately decided it would be a waste of time; chances were, Brendon was probably holed up in a hotel room somewhere, banging a groupie.

At 3 a.m., Ryan gave up and crawled into his bunk, where he lay sleeplessly until the sun came up.


	8. This Is Not That Dream

Ryan was sitting at the table in the lounge area drinking coffee when Brendon sauntered in at 9 a.m., the door slamming shut behind him. Ryan kept his eyes on the TV and said nothing. Brendon poured coffee for himself and sat on the couch nearby.

Hearing the door slam, Zack appeared from the bunk section. He looked furious, but said calmly, "You pull that shit again, Urie, and I'm putting you on lock-down." Brendon gave one stiff nod and fixed his eyes on the TV.

"I tried calling you 3 hours ago," Zack continued, fuming.

"My phone died." Brendon responded insolently.

Ryan wanted to ask him where the hell he'd been. He wanted to yell at him for making him worry to the point where he'd had a completely sleepless night. He wanted to know -- on second thought, he _didn't_  want to know -- if he'd gotten laid. Ryan realized miserably that he was jealous at the thought of it, which only further confirmed for him that engaging in sexual activity on any level with Brendon was the one of the worst things he could have allowed to happen.

"We're hitting the road in 10 minutes," Zack informed them. "You're goddamn lucky you made it back in time."

"I knew what time I needed to be back by," Brendon muttered. "This ain't my first rodeo."

"Look, wise-ass, I don't give a shit how many rodeos you've been to, you still better not pull a stunt like that again," Zack said. "I fucking mean it."

Ryan slammed his coffee mug down on the table and went to take a shower in the bus's miniscule stall. They had a four hour drive ahead of them. After he showered, he pulled on a pair of clean boxers and climbed back into his bunk to try to finally get some sleep now that Brendon had returned safe.

*********

Ryan managed to nap all the way to their destination, in spite of the other guys laughing loudly at some comedy they were watching. The noise of the engine helped drown them out a bit and lulled him to sleep. He was woken by Spencer lightly shaking his foot. "Hey Ry, we're there. Up and at 'em."

They were in Anaheim, California. After the show that night they had an eight-hour drive to Tucson, Arizona, for an outdoor, daytime show. Ryan stretched, feeling better than he had that morning, but still fuzzy. Adapting to tour life always took some getting used to.

From the lounge area of the bus, Zack called out, "Who's hungry?" A chorus of "me's" and "I am's" followed, and Zack said, "We have a few hours to kill before soundcheck. I vote we get a couple cabs and go find someplace to eat."

Eager to get off the bus for a while, everyone approved of that idea. An hour later they, along with a few other crew members, were seated in booths at a Denny's. Half of them wanted to eat lunch and the other half wanted breakfast, so Denny's suited all of them.

Brendon was in the booth across from Ryan's, and Ryan couldn't help sneaking glances at him every now and then, trying to gauge his mood. He didn't seem angry like the previous night, but he was definitely quieter than usual. 

Ryan was halfway through his plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon when Brendon slid of his booth and headed for the men's room. Hastily swallowing a mouthful of food, Ryan turned to Spencer and said, "Hey, can you stand up for a minute and let me by? I gotta hit the restroom." Spencer, who was in the middle of an animated debate with Jon over whether it would be more painful to die by freezing to death or burning to death, automatically did as he was told without noticing that Ryan was following Brendon.

When he reached the door to the men's room, he stopped short of going inside, opting instead to lean against the wall opposite the door and wait. After a minute or two he heard the hand dryer running, then Brendon came out and stopped in his tracks when he saw Ryan.

"Hey." Ryan said, half expecting Brendon to start walking away.

"Hey." Brendon replied, sounding wary but (much to Ryan's relief), not angry.

"I just, um," Ryan began, wanting to get the words out in a hurry before Brendon _did_  walk away, but at the same time wanting to make sure they came out sounding as sincere as they truly were. "I just wanted to _really_ apologize for what I said yesterday. I was only joking, but I was out of line."

Brendon didn't say anything at first. He just stood there looking at Ryan for what was probably only 20 seconds but felt like an hour. Then he nodded, just a quick, brief tilt of his chin like the one he'd given Zack that morning. "Okay," he said, simply.

"Okay?" Ryan asked uncertainly.

"Okay," Brendon repeated.

"Okay, then. Um, okay. Good."

Brendon turned and began walking back in the direction of the booths. Unappeased, Ryan called after him, "So you forgive me?" But Brendon either didn't hear him, or pretended he didn't.

*********

After they ate, they spent some time exploring the neighborhood on foot and found some quirky thrift shops to browse in. Occasionally, fans would approach and ask for an autograph or picture, but fortunately they were respectful toward the band and crew and things didn't get out of hand (as they were often prone to do). Having such a young fan base definitely had a downside.

Then it was time for them to make their way back to the venue for soundcheck. Brendon was in a much better mood this time and things went well enough that towards the end of it, Spencer felt comfortable asking, "So, Bren, the speech thing? It's back in the show, right?"

"Yup." Brendon answered nonchalantly, as if yesterday's argument over it had never occurred.

*********

It was a very fun show. Ryan couldn't be sure if it was because it was the second night and everyone was feeling more confident, or if it was because Brendon was in a better mood. He figured it was a combination of the two factors. Whatever the reason, halfway through the show, as they launched into "Nails for Breakfast, Tacks for Snacks", the band members were really enjoying themselves.

As the song came to an end, Ryan felt a brief flicker of -- excitement? No. Apprehension. It was time for the speech and he suddenly realized that he didn't really trust Brendon's "good mood".

Brendon had spontaneously come up with the speech at one of their first shows as a way to introduce their song "Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off." At the time, Ryan hadn't known _what_  the fuck Brendon was doing, but by the time he'd finished the dirty little story, the crowd was losing its collective mind. After that, Brendon had done it at every show.

Until last night.

Tonight, Brendon began, "Have you ever had a dream where you were running through a sunflower field in May? With cotton candy clouds dancing across the clear blue sky?" He had done this so often that the fans had memorized his words. Ryan could see the kids in the first three rows reciting along with Brendon. "Your lover is running towards you..." he paused and began to approach Ryan, the volume of the crowd increasing as they anticipated the upcoming simulated kiss between the two bandmates. "The wind is running through your lovely, lavish locks -- " Brendon reached his right arm out and brushed a lock of Ryan's hair behind his ear, " -- and you lean in for that perfect...romantic..." Ryan heard the crowd finish the sentence with the word Brendon usually used here: " _kiss_." But Brendon didn't say it. Instead, he brought his arm back toward himself and slipped the first two fingers of his hand into his mouth, sucking on them, a clear, sexy, dirty simulation of a -- " _blowjob_." Brendon said clearly into the microphone after removing his fingers from his mouth. 

Ryan had never heard a crowd go so crazy before. The shrieks were ear-splitting. Ryan didn't think that it was possible for them to get any louder, but then. _Then_ , Brendon leaned in and kissed him. It was only a peck, nothing more, but it was the first time the onstage kiss had been anything more than the two of them getting close but stopping just shy of making contact, kissing the air right before Brendon moved away and finished telling the fantasy.

The fans were going nuts. Moving quickly, not wanting to disrupt the flow of the show, Brendon put his mouth against Ryan's ear and said, "You fucked up your chance of _that_  happening." It was a miracle that Ryan was able to hear him over the screams of the audience, but he heard him, all right. The message was loud and clear. Brendon held eye contact with him as he lifted the microphone to his mouth again and delivered the next line of the speech. "But no. This is not that dream."


	9. Hey Jealousy

This time, as they took their bow at the end of the show, Brendon didn't immediately drop Ryan's hand. Instead, he held on for a few seconds too long, squeezing so hard that Ryan's knuckles crunched together painfully. This time Ryan was the one to yank his hand away.

As soon as they were offstage, Spencer and Jon started whooping it up, laughing, high-fiving and slapping Brendon on the back in appreciation. "Holy _shit_ , dude, you just knocked it out of the park!! Why didn't you ever do the speech that way before?" Spencer asked.

Brendon shot him a devilish grin and said, "Well, I guess you could just say that I was inspired by Ryan here --" he cuffed Ryan on the shoulder hard enough to make him flinch "--and his tale of blowjob-less woe."

Spencer and Jon guffawed at this, while Ryan rubbed his sore shoulder and collected another mental dime.

*********

Later that night Ryan was reading in his bunk while everyone else sat in the lounge, drinking beer and playing cards. It sounded like things were getting rowdy, which Ryan didn't think was a great idea seeing as they had an afternoon show the next day.

He was taken by surprise when Brendon suddenly poked his head around the curtain that separated the lounge area from the bunk area. "What are you doing, Ry? Come play poker."

Ryan was still for a minute. Then he set his open book down on his chest and looked at Brendon. "Why would I want to do that?" he asked slowly.

"I'm not mad at you anymore," Brendon replied simply, as it that was the only reason Ryan was staying away.

"Oh, really? You're not mad at me? Wow, how did I get so lucky?"

Brendon frowned at his sarcastic tone. "I got back at you, so now I'm not mad. Come play cards."

Ryan was speechless. He couldn't believe Brendon's arrogance. He stared at him for a minute, then slowly lifted his book back up and started to read again.

"The hell's your problem?" Brendon asked, annoyed.

Without lifting his eyes from the book, Ryan answered, "Did it ever occur to you that maybe _I'm_  mad at _you_?"

Brendon came fully into the room and crossed his arms. "Oh _really_ ," he said dryly. "And what reason do _you_  have to be mad at me?"

Ryan shut his book and slammed it down on his bed. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because of that little act you pulled onstage. Or how about, maybe because you took off for an entire night, made everyone worry, and kept me from sleeping the whole time."

A small smile spread across Brendon's face. "Awww," he said. "You were worried about me? That's cute."

"Yeah, really cute. I didn't fucking sleep all night."

"Were you _jealous_?" Brendon asked, putting on a sexy voice. "Wondering who I was with?"

"Fuck no," Ryan lied.

"You were jeaallloouuusss," Brendon singsonged. "What would bother you more? If I was with a girl? Or if I decided to try my hand at blowing someone?"

One more mental dime in the bank. Ryan wanted to punch him. "Fuck off, Brendon," he said. "Go away, seriously. I'm trying to read."

Laughing, Brendon turned and went back to the lounge area.

*********

They began driving at 1:00 in the morning. Their next show was in Tucson, Arizona, and it was going to be at least an 8 hour drive. 

The next day passed in a blur. They went onstage at 2:00 p.m. The show went great, although Ryan almost had an anxiety attack at the end of Tacks for Snacks, knowing that the speech was next. Brendon, however, stuck to the usual script this time, and the kiss was back to being an air-kiss.

Their set was over by 3:45 and by the time they all showered and dressed, it was time for dinner. It was a hotel night, since they had the following day off and the show the day after that was only an hour away. They checked in and then went to get some food in the hotel's restaurant.

"I vote we hit some bars tonight," Jon said, and everyone enthusiastically agreed. Ryan, for one, thought that having a few drinks sounded like exactly what he needed.

They went to their rooms after they ate and got ready to go out.

*********

By 10:30 p.m., Ryan was pleasantly buzzed. Well, maybe more than just a little buzzed. Teetering on the edge of being drunk was more like it. Knowing his limits, he switched to drinking water.

They were at Zen, a nightclub close to the hotel. The manager had ushered them into the VIP area, which slowly began filling up with women as the band members scouted the bar and chose which ones they wanted to hang out with. Zack's duty that night was to invite the selected ladies to the VIP section. All of them said yes. It was too easy.

Ryan's focus was on Brendon, who was once again flirting with a pretty brunette. It was pissing him off, and he hated that it was bothering him. A week ago, it wouldn't have fazed him at all.

An attractive blonde sidled up to Ryan and sat down at the bar beside him. Reaching over to touch his hand, she said in a sultry voice, "Hi Ryan. I'm Jac. How are you doing tonight?"

He tore his eyes away from Brendon and the brunette and looked at Jac, sizing her up. She was beautiful. A week ago he would've noticed her long before she approached him.

"What are you drinking?" he asked her. 

"Whatever you're buying." She winked in an endearing way.

He smiled at her. She looked like the "girly drink" type. He called the bartender over and ordered. "Sex on the Beach for the lady, please."

Jac giggled. "I could go for some _real_ sex on the beach, but we'd have to drive quite a ways for that to happen. So I guess the drink will have to do."

The bartender placed the drink in front of her and Ryan raised his glass of water. "To sex on the beach. Or just to sex anywhere." Jac giggled again and clinked her glass to his.

*********

 He'd been flirting with Jac for almost an hour when Ryan glanced over and saw Brendon slow dancing with the brunette. The sight of it made his blood boil. He drained the last of his water and ordered another beer, drinking half of it in one gulp.

"So then," Jac was saying, "it was 3 in the morning and I was stranded, wearing nothing but my bikini bottom. My phone was dead and I had no money for a cab, and--"

"Excuse me," Ryan said, as he saw Brendon detach himself from the brunette and head in the direction of the restrooms. "I'll be right back."

He got off the bar stool and, for the second time that day, followed Brendon and waited outside the men's room. When Brendon came out, he saw Ryan and frowned, then smirked. Ryan had no idea how to read the meaning behind that, and he was too alcohol impaired to put much thought into it anyway.

"Well, hello, Ross. You seem to be making a habit out of following me to men's rooms lately. There are no glory holes in this one, in case you were wondering."

Ryan didn't respond. He reacted. He closed the space between them and grabbed Brendon by the hair, then opened the men's room door and pulled him inside, praying nobody else was in there. His prayer was answered. They were alone.

He shoved Brendon hard, slamming his back against the tiled wall. Moving in for the kill, Ryan gripped Brendon's face between his hands and smashed their mouths together violently. He bent his right leg and used it to push Brendon's open, grinding upwards so his outer thigh rubbed against Brendon's crotch. Brendon moaned and grabbed the back of Ryan's head, pulling him in even closer and biting down hard on Ryan's lower lip. Ryan wanted nothing more than to bend him over the sink in this filthy bathroom and have his way with him.

But then Brendon pushed him away, breathing heavily and wiping his mouth. "No, Ryan," he said. "No."

Ryan's lip was still tingling from where Brendon had bitten it. He was hard, and one quick glance told him that Brendon was too. Ryan rasped, "Why?"

"It's a mistake. You were right."

"Maybe it _is_  a mistake. But I don't know how we can just...stop."

"Well," Brendon said, running his hands through his messy hair in an attempt to look like someone hadn't just been yanking at it, "We can stop because tonight I'm going to be with Emma, and you're going to be with that blonde who's waiting for you at the bar."

_So he was keeping an eye on me, too_ , Ryan thought, with a quick pang of satisfaction. But then he thought, _no_.

"I don't want that blonde. It's a hotel night. I want _you_."

Brendon looked at him, shaking his head slowly. "It's a _mistake_ ," he repeated.

"Probably. But maybe just...just one last time before we stop?" Ryan said, hating that he was basically begging.

"It doesn't work that way."

They stared at one another, both subdued, both knowing that this was a lose-lose situation.

"I'm sorry," Brendon said quietly. And then he quickly turned around and left the room, the door slamming behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So maybe something dirty should happen later on this night?? Hmmm


	10. Sealed With a Kiss

Ryan reluctantly returned to the bar, where Jac sat waiting for him. Her glass was empty and he ordered her another.

"So, what was it that I was saying before you left? I forget...oh yeah! So I was half naked, stranded and I had _no_ idea what I was going to do..." she began to drone on and on. Ryan zoned out, occasionally nodding or saying "uh huh" to feign interest in her story. He tried to keep his eyes from wandering over to Brendon, who was now sitting in a booth with the brunette (Emma, apparently) seated on his lap with her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Every time Ryan glanced over, he grew angrier and more frustrated. Emma didn't even look old enough to be in the club. She was probably 17 years old.

"Are you okay?" Jac asked abruptly, a sharp edge to her voice. Ryan jumped, snapping his attention back to her.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, because you keep staring at Brendon and I can tell you're barely listening to me." She leaned forward conspiratorially, and he was reminded of the MTV reporter. "So tell me...are the rumors true?"

Ryan felt his hackles rise. He tried to laugh it off, but then he accidentally glanced in Brendon's direction again and saw that Emma's tongue was in his mouth. They were making out like teenagers in front of the entire room. That was the final straw for Ryan. "No," he said flatly. "The rumors aren't true. Look, it was nice meeting you, Jac, but I'm beat." He tossed some money onto the bar and stood up.

"Wait, don't go!" Jac said. Ryan knew that she was eager to fuck a rock star, and he thought sarcastically, _sorry to crush your precious fantasy_. He almost said it out loud, but he wasn't that cruel. He didn't hate groupies; he was just a little tired of them.

"Sorry," he mumbled and made a beeline for the exit. He walked the 3 blocks back to the hotel, texting Zack only once he was safe in his room. No need to worry the big guy the way asshole Brendon had.

Anger had sobered him up, and he didn't feel like being sober. He opened the mini bar and took out of couple nips of tequila. He was going to break his own rule about avoiding shots.

He lay down on the bed and tipped the first shot back, feeling soothed by the burn at the back of his throat. Maybe he _should_  have brought Jac back here with him, because now that he was alone, he didn't know what to do with himself. He turned on the television and started flipping through the channels. His phone buzzed when a text message came in, and he picked it up, expecting it to be a response from Zack. Instead, it was from Brendon ("Bden", as he was listed in Ryan's phone).

Bden: _Where'd u go? Your blonde just asked me for your number. Want me to give it?_

Ryan considered this as he downed the second nip of tequila. If he let Brendon give her his phone number, he could tell her what hotel he was staying in, and in 20 minutes flat he could have her naked and spread-eagled in bed beneath him. An even better idea would be to skip giving her his phone number altogether and just have Brendon direct her to the hotel. That way when he politely kicked her out of his room later on, she wouldn't have a way to contact him again. His finger hovered over the phone, trying to decide. He thought about Brendon with his tongue in Emma's mouth, and then he thought about how overeager Jac was to bang someone famous. He sighed and texted back: _Nah. I'm good._

His phone buzzed again 10 seconds later.

Bden: _Why'd u leave without her? Find someone hotter?_

Ryan's eyebrows furrowed. What the fuck? He didn't understand why Brendon gave a shit. He replied: _No, I just left. Not in the mood for groupies._

Ten minutes later there was a knock on his door, startling him. He was going to maim Brendon if he'd sent Jac, or any other girl, here to "cheer him up". He didn't need a goddamn consolation prize.

He stalked over to the door, the full effects of the tequila hitting him as soon as he stood up, and looked through the peephole where he was confronted with...a big brown eyeball.

Seriously. What the fuck.

Ryan yanked open the door and said, "What are you doing here? Where's your little prom queen?"

Brendon pushed his way into the room and grabbed a nip of vodka from the minibar, downing it and making a face at the taste. "I left her with your blonde. They can console each other. Maybe they'll have a threesome with Zack."

"You looked like you were having a good time with her," Ryan said, immediately regretting it. He sounded like a jealous bitch. He closed the door behind him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, it was fun for a while. Until it wasn't." Brendon hoisted himself up to perch on the counter above the minibar. "You see, here's the thing. You and me, hooking up? It's absolutely a mistake."

"So you've mentioned," Ryan muttered. "Several times."

"I shouldn't have pushed the issue. I should have listened to you. I didn't think it would be more than a kiss. I'm _straight_."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "I believe we've reiterated that point several times as well." Running out of patience, he snapped, "Where exactly are you going with this conversation? We've agreed it was a mistake. There's no argument here, so why are we still talking about it, and why are you not in your room nailing Emma right now?"

"Well, the thing is..." Brendon hopped off the counter and walked over to Ryan, who immediately tensed up. Brendon knelt on the floor in front of him, placing his hands on the bed on either side of Ryan. "The thing is, she doesn't kiss as good as you do."

He looked up, his brown eyes meeting Ryan's amber ones. The look they exchanged was solemn, searching, and with a flash of sudden clarity Ryan recognized this moment as a turning point of some kind. Or maybe a test. Maybe Brendon _wanted_  him to refuse. Maybe he wanted -- or  _needed_  -- Ryan to be the strong one, the one who insisted they stop before things got worse. To continue this thing, whatever  _this thing_ was, would only raise the stakes to a daunting height. There was too much to lose, too much at risk.

Ryan closed his eyes, his head swimming with conflicting emotions. When he spoke, it was so quiet that Brendon could barely hear him, in spite of being only inches away. 

"I can't be the strong one."

It shouldn't have made sense to Brendon, but it did. "Neither can I," he said, and pulled Ryan's head down, pressing their mouths together in a kiss that began slowly but within seconds became feverish, desperate. Their fate: sealed with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for leaving comments, you guys are the best!


	11. This Night is Heating Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a short chapter, but yay, smut! More soon. :)

Ryan knew, even as he gave himself over to the kiss, that it was different from the last time they were together in this way. The air felt emotionally charged. It didn't feel like experimentation anymore. It felt like something beyond their control.

Brendon was still kneeling in front of him as he sat on the edge of the bed, and without breaking the kiss, Ryan slid forward. Brendon moved back a few inches and gripped him by the hips, guiding him off the bed until he was straddling Brendon's lap. Ryan wove his fingers through Brendon's hair and leaned into him, pressing their bodies together, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

Breaking the kiss, he pushed lightly at Brendon's chest. "Lay down."

Brendon did as he was told, laying back on the floor. Ryan climbed on top of him, attacking his mouth again and rocking his hips so their erections rubbed together through their clothes. Brendon slid both hands down Ryan's back, then placed them on his ass and pulled him closer, thrusting upward at the same time. Ryan moaned into Brendon's mouth and felt him smile as they kissed.

Suddenly impatient for more, Ryan rolled off of Brendon and onto his side. He reached for Brendon's belt buckle and fumbled with it clumsily --he was in too much of a hurry -- without success, until Brendon took over and undid it himself. Ryan unbuttoned Brendon's jeans and slid the zipper down, his mouth practically watering as he saw his hard cock straining against his boxer briefs. There was a wet spot where he'd been leaking precum and Ryan wanted to taste it. He bent forward and pulled the front of the briefs down, then took Brendon into his mouth.

Brendon gasped "Oh, fuck yeah," and propped himself up on his elbows to get a better view. It was sexy as fuck to see how much Ryan obviously enjoyed going down on him. For a minute he wondered what it would be like to do that to Ryan, but -- no. He couldn't even bring himself to fully imagine it.

Ryan took his mouth off of Brendon and got onto his knees. He undid his own jeans and pushed them, along with his boxers, down as far as he could. Brendon reached out and teasingly ran his fingers up and down the length of Ryan's erection, then wrapped his fist tightly around it, eliciting a filthy moan from Ryan's mouth. Ryan bent down and sucked Brendon's cock into his mouth again, cheeks hollowing. Brendon groaned and let his head drop back onto the floor as his hand fisted Ryan's cock and he began to stroke him.

They set a rhythm that worked for both of them, and as they started reaching the edge, Ryan found himself thrusting into Brendon's hand as Brendon began fucking Ryan's mouth. Brendon grabbed the back of his head and pushed downward each time he thrust upward. Ryan was nearly choking every time but he was so turned on by it that he didn't stop him.

"Ryan," Brendon said, his voice throaty. The name sounded more like a moan than a word. "Your mouth feels so fucking good. I want to come down your throat."

Ryan stopped blowing him long enough to say, "I want to fucking drink you, Brendon. I want to come on you at the same time you come in my mouth."

Brendon let out a long, lustful moan and pushed Ryan's head back down hurriedly. Quickening the rhythm of his hand on Ryan's cock, he started to fuck Ryan's mouth harder. Twenty seconds later he gasped, "I have to -- I can't --are you ready?" He stroked even harder. "Oh God Ryan, I can't hold back, I'm gonna come."

"Me too," Ryan said with his mouth still full, and then his entire body tensed as his orgasm hit. His cum splashed onto Brendon's shirt and the floor, and Brendon cried out as his own cum flooded Ryan's mouth. Ryan swallowed and flopped back to the floor beside Brendon. "Oh my God," he said. "Why did we wait so long to do this?"

Brendon chuckled and pulled Ryan toward him, kissing his forehead. "Because I'm straight," he wisecracked.


	12. Collar Full of Chemistry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I just posted a chapter yesterday, but here's another one in honor of today being the 11th birthday of A Fever You Can't Sweat Out. (And oh look, more sexy stuff!)

Ryan and Brendon cleaned up the mess, showered and got into bed. Within minutes they were asleep, the TV still droning in the background. At around 4:00 in morning Ryan woke up and looked over to see if Brendon was still there or if he'd snuck out again. He was still there, and Ryan couldn't help smiling.

Ryan found himself staring at Brendon's face, bathed in the soft light from the TV. It was no wonder he'd been attracted to him from the start. His face was beautiful, and that _mouth_  of his. Ryan ached to reach over and caress his full lower lip with his fingertips. Now that they were actually doing _this_ , Ryan found it impossible to believe thathe'd been able to shove his attraction for Brendon aside for so long. He'd had good reasons for doing so, but he was starting to forget what those reasons were, and that alarmed him.

He was hard under the covers and he slid one hand down to touch himself. A fantasy played out in his mind and he decided to act on it. Getting out of bed slowly, being careful not to wake Brendon, he crossed the room to grab the lube from his suitcase. The air-conditioned room caused goosebumps to raise the hair on his arms and he hurried back to the warmth of the bed. He slid back under the covers and closer to Brendon, craving his body heat.

Brendon was asleep on his side, facing Ryan, so Ryan moved over until they were skin-to-skin. Squeezing lube into his palm, he reached down and gently stroked it onto Brendon's cock. Brendon was already semi-hard in his sleep. Ryan pressed his mouth to Brendon's, sucking that beautiful lower lip into his mouth. 

Starting to wake, Brendon sleepily but willingly parted his lips and slipped his tongue into Ryan's mouth, moving his hips forward so their quickly growing hard-ons touched. Ryan wrapped his long fingers around both of them, tightening his grip and coating both their cocks with the slippery liquid.

"Fuuucckk..." Brendon breathed.

They rocked into each other, the pressure of their hips thrusting together plus the friction from Ryan's hand quickly heightening their arousal until both of them were moaning and uttering filthy words to one another. Brendon slid his left arm under Ryan's neck and raked the nails of his right hand down Ryan's back until he reached his ass. He splayed his palm over Ryan's ass cheek and pulled him tightly forward, picking up the speed of their thrusts. Pressing his mouth to Ryan's ear, he said in a throaty voice, "I want to feel you come on my dick."

The words almost put Ryan over the edge right then. " _Fucking hell,_  Brendon. You talk like that and it's going to happen right now."

Brendon laughed, low and deep. "Come on Ryan, I want to feel how hot your cum is, running down my cock..." he sucked Ryan's earlobe into his mouth, then dove his tongue into his ear.

Ryan came with a shout, loud enough that Brendon had to smother his mouth with his own to muffle it. Ryan could feel his hot cum spilling down his hand and he smeared it over both of their cocks. Brendon let go a second later, moaning long and low into Ryan's mouth as he felt his cum erupt from him and mingle with Ryan's.

Spent, for a few minutes neither man could move. They lay there, sated and sticky, breathing heavily, hearts racing.

Brendon spoke first, his voice still gravelly. "I do have to say one thing."

"What's that?" Ryan asked, voice equally raspy.

"Sex with dudes is a _lot_  messier than sex with chicks." Ryan laughed and Brendon added, "Well, unless the chick's a squirter. _That_  can soak a bed."

"This is true," Ryan agreed. They'd shared many stories, between themselves and the guys in the crew, about experiences they'd had with women who squirt when they came. The general consensus was that squirting was hot but messy as hell.

Once their heart rates had returned to normal, the two men forced themselves to get out of the wet bed and move to the other one to get a few more hours of sleep.

*********

When Ryan woke, it was late morning and Brendon wasn't in the bed. His eyes swept the room until they landed on Brendon, who was sitting fully dressed on the edge of the bed they'd abandoned, putting on his shoes.

"Where you going?" Ryan asked, trying not to sound as anxious as he suddenly felt.

"Just back to my room. I need to shower and get some clean clothes on. We should find out what the other guys are planning for today."

It was a day off, and the guys usually did research on whatever city they were in to find fun things to do. Bowling, jetskiing, paintball, go-kart racing, and indoor skydiving were just a few of the things they'd experienced together on their off days.

"Oh. Okay." Ryan hated this newfound insecurity that he seemed to have suddenly developed when it came to Brendon.

Brendon stood up and headed for the door.

"So...you'll text me and let me know what's up?" Ryan blurted. It was stupid. He knew that Zack and the other guys would keep him in the loop, but what he was really asking was whether Brendon wanted Ryan to be included in whatever they decided to do.

"Sure," Brendon said, looking at him like he was missing a few marbles. "I'll talk to you in a little bit."

When the door closed behind him, Ryan rubbed his hands over his face. What was _wrong_  with him? After a few minutes he went and took a shower, then stripped the cum-covered sheets off the other bed, scrubbed them under running water in the sink, and hung them over the shower rod to dry. No maid should have to deal with that.

He called room service and ordered brunch, then watched TV as he waited for his phone to ring.


	13. Breaking All the Rules

When his phone finally rang, Ryan grabbed for it at a rate of speed that embarrassed even himself. _Jesus, I'm like a fucking teenage girl waiting for a call from the captain of the football team_ , he thought. As if that didn't make him feel stupid enough, insult was added to injury when his heart sank upon seeing that the incoming call was from Jon.

Since when had he become emotionally invested in whether he got a call from Brendon or not? It had never mattered before. Shaking his head at himself, he answered the phone.

"Can you be ready to go in fifteen minutes?" Jon asked without preamble.

"Where are we going?" Ryan asked.

"Top secret. Just wear the darkest clothes you have."

"Huh? What are we doing, robbing a bank?"

"Tour rules. Anything goes." Jon laughed.

"I don't think tour rules apply when it comes to robbing a bank."

"Just meet us in the lobby," Jon said, and repeated, "fifteen minutes!" before he hung up.

When Ryan made it down to the lobby, he was the last one to join the group, making it an even six. The other five were Zack, Spencer, Jon, Brendon, and Matt the guitar tech. They were all dressed in mostly black clothing, which made it look like they were either going to a funeral or to, indeed, rob a bank. All they were missing were black ski masks, and for all Ryan knew, maybe they'd be stopping at a store along the way to pick some up.

"Let's go, boys," Zack's voice boomed. "Got two taxis waiting outside."

Ryan glanced in Brendon's direction, but the other boy wasn't looking at him. Ryan couldn't tell if he was deliberately avoiding meeting his gaze or if he was just distracted, and he fervently hoped Brendon wasn't regretting everything they'd done last night. He felt immensely reassured when they ended up beside each other in one of the taxis and Brendon let his thigh rest comfortably against Ryan's. Brendon stole a brief look at him out of the corner of his eye, and flashed him a wicked grin as if to say, _we have a secret_. Even surrounded by people, Ryan couldn't help feeling a twinge in his groin as he was reminded of their night.

A few minutes later they pulled up in front of a long, beige warehouse, emblazoned with large red letters: Laser Combat. A cheer went up from every guy in the car besides the driver, who merely looked haggard. (His mood brightened considerably when Zack handed him a tip that was probably 3 times what he normally earned in a week).

They nearly tripped over themselves in excitement climbing out of the cab. Once inside the building, they signed waivers and sat through a 10-minute briefing video on the rules of indoor laser tag. No running, no physical contact, no swearing (that one was sure to be broken before they even had their gear on). Unbeknownst to them, Zack had made reservations a week earlier, so they had the place to themselves for an hour. They paired up into three teams. Spencer chose Brendon as his teammate before Ryan had a chance to, so Ryan ended up with Zack, and Jon with Matt. Then it was time to put on their vests and choose code names, competing to see who could come up with the most ridiculous ones. Zack scored points with Maggot Panda, while Jon earned groans by simply changing one letter of his name and going with Jon Wanker. Brendon chose Squirt Box, elbowing Ryan and saying, "Know what I'm talkin' about, Ryro? Wink, wink."

Ryan wished he could pick a name like "CumOnMyDick" to remind Brendon of the dirty words he'd been spouting less than 12 hours ago, but profanities weren't allowed in the code names, which was too bad. That would shut Brendon up for sure. Then again, it might also cause him to freak out like he had over the blowjob joke the other day, and Ryan didn't need to go through _that_  aggravation again.

The part of the arena that was reserved as the battlefield was designed as a dark forest, complete with huge trees, bushes and boulders to hide behind. Ryan and Zack were on the red team, Spencer and Brendon on the yellow one, and Jon and Matt on the blue one. Ryan and Zack decided to split up. Ryan was smaller and quicker on his feet, so his plan was to sneak around and hide behind things so he could launch surprise attacks on people while Zack hunkered somewhere where he could shoot at the enemies' bases. Ryan saw the flashing of a yellow vest and aimed and fired, hitting Spencer on one his vest's shoulder sensors. "Shit!" Spencer shouted. Because of being shot, his gun was shut down for 5 seconds. He couldn't shoot, but others could keep shooting at him, so he took off running, leaping over a fake log and looking for cover as Ryan laughed and kept shooting at him. Spencer was quick, though, and Ryan missed. _Swearing and running_ , Ryan thought, laughing. _Both rules broken in the first 3 minutes of the game._

Jon and Matt were sticking together and they started shooting wildly at Zack when they found his hiding spot. Brendon leapt out of the shadows and let out a Tarzan-style war cry as he shot Jon and Matt both directly in their chest sensor pads, knocking them out of the game for 10 seconds each. _Way to keep your cover, Brendon_.Ryan thought, wondering if Brendon was even _capable_  of not being loud 95% of the time.

Ryan ducked behind a huge, fake boulder to plan his next move. Pressing his back firmly against it, he kept an eye out for any approaching enemies and inched his way to the other side of the boulder. He peered around it, and came face to face with Brendon, who'd clearly been waiting for him. His gun was aimed right at Ryan's chest. Ryan didn't have a chance to lift his gun or duck, because Brendon moved too quickly. Instead of shooting at Ryan, he used his gun to push him back behind the boulder. Letting the gun fall to his side, Brendon pushed Ryan against the rock and grabbed his face in both hands, crushing their mouths together in one of the hottest, roughest kisses Ryan could ever remember having in his entire life. His own gun clattered to the floor as he reached up to grab Brendon's hair, pulling him closer, forgetting where they were. When they broke the kiss, both gasping for air, Ryan joked breathlessly, "Swearing. Running. No physical contact. We've officially broken all the rules of the game."

That's when they were shocked back to reality by Zack, who cleared his throat loudly to announce his presence.  _Fuck_ , Ryan thought. There was no telling how long Zack had been there or what he'd seen.

Brendon hastily backed away from Ryan, looking panicked. 

Zack didn't say anything. Instead, he calmly pointed his laser gun and shot Brendon point-blank; three direct hits: one to each shoulder sensor and one to his chest. Then, just for good measure, he did the same to Ryan, not even caring that they were on the same team.

That's when Ryan knew for sure that Zack had seen everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never actually played laser tag (but I want to now that I've done some research on it!) Anyway, I hope I made it at least sound believable in spite of never having done it myself.  
> Thanks for the kudos and comments, they make my day!


	14. All Apologies

 

The cab ride back to the hotel was significantly quieter than the ride to the laser tag place. Zack sat in the passenger seat, and Matt sat between Brendon and Ryan in the back. Spencer and Jon had taken another taxi to go see Walk the Line at a local movie theater.

Brendon was fidgeting, his right leg bouncing nervously. Matt could sense the tension in the car, but had no idea what the cause of it was. He attempted to make conversation but nobody participated. Zack turned the volume up on the radio.

When they got to the hotel, Matt said a quick, "Later, dudes, that was a good time," and beat a hasty retreat to his room. Ryan tried to make a beeline for his room as well, but he knew luck wasn't going to be on his side. Brendon just stood there, indecisively. Were the three of them going to _talk_ about this? Zack made the decision for him. "Come on, Brendon," he said and rushed after Ryan, not even looking back to see if Brendon was following. Dragging his feet, Brendon muttered, "fuck," under his breath and followed.

When the three of them were safely behind closed doors (and after Ryan had breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that housekeeping had already cleaned the room, saving him from having to explain why his bed sheet was hanging from the shower rod), Zack said, "I'm only going to ask this once. _What_  did I just witness, and how long has it been going on?"

Brendon looked to Ryan, not wanting to say a word. He knew this was all his fault, and he was perfectly aware that anything he said at this critical moment could and would be used against him in an imaginary court of law where Ryan was the Presiding Judge.

Keeping his mouth shut was never his strong point, however. Raising his hand like a little kid in a classroom, he said, "Do I have the right to an attorney?"

Nobody laughed. Zack and Ryan just stared at him. Ryan shook his head as if to say _you are SUCH an idiot_.

Zack broke the silence with, "I'm waiting. I've got time. I can wait all day if I have to."

Ryan turned to him, furious. "You know what, Zack? I'm sorry you had to see that, but to be honest, it's not really any of your business."

Brendon's eyes widened in surprise. The last thing he'd expected was for Ryan to defend their situation. Instead, he'd been waiting for Ryan to throw him under the bus and blame it all on Brendon's "curiosity".

Now he steeled himself in anticipation of an angry outburst from Zack in reaction to being told to mind his own business, but was once again surprised when the older man's shoulders slumped as though he were conceding defeat. "Look," Zack said, in a kinder tone. "It's  _not_  my business. I wish like hell that I could _unsee_ what I saw, but I can't. If Pete finds out about this...if the other guys find out..." he shook his head.

"They don't need to find out." Ryan stated firmly. "Brendon was just joking around. Nothing's going on."

Brendon's eyes flew to Ryan's, and Ryan caught the brief flicker of hurt in them. He looked away.

"It  _really_  didn't look like a joke," Zack said.

Brendon cleared his throat. He'd gotten them into this predicament, so it was up to him to get them out of it. "It _was_ just a joke. After the onstage kiss the other day, Ryan bet me I didn't have the balls to ever _really_ kiss a dude. I took it as a dare. I just waited for what I thought was the best time to catch him completely off guard." The lie rolled off his tongue easily. Ryan shot him a look of surprise mixed with gratitude.

Zack considered this for a minute. Finally, he said, "I'm not convinced. I think there's more to it than that. If there _is_ , I don't need to know, but I don't want anyone else to find out about it. I'll never say a word about what I saw. You guys feel like making out _,_ keep it behind closed doors and _keep it out of the media_."

He waited until Brendon and Ryan had both nodded in agreement, then walked out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving them alone in silence that felt deafening.

Brendon sank down on the edge of one of the beds. Avoiding looking at Ryan, he said softly, "I'm sorry."

Ryan didn't speak right away. He started to pace back and forth like a caged animal. Finally he began to rant, "Okay, Brendon, I know you're impulsive. You can be reckless. What you did was impulsive and reckless. It was crazy and stupid and _what were you thinking_?"

"I know it was stupid, that's why I --" but Brendon's words were cut off when Ryan crossed the room to him in two quick strides and shoved him, hard, back onto the bed. In a heated rush, Ryan leapt on top of him, straddling his thighs and pressing their upper bodies tightly together, covering Brendon's lips with his own, his hand immediately going for Brendon's belt buckle. Against Brendon's mouth, he gasped, "Don't ever apologize for doing something _so_ _fucking hot_."

Brendon moaned as he felt Ryan succeed at undoing his belt. He was already hard as Ryan slid down his body to unbutton and unzip his dark jeans, yanking them down roughly like he couldn't get Brendon's dick out fast enough. Within seconds he was sliding his mouth down Brendon's shaft, thrusting his own clothed erection against the mattress. He took his mouth away long enough to say, "I wanted to go down on you right there in the laser tag room."

Brendon arched upward, his head thrown back against the mattress, fisting the bed covers so tightly his knuckles were white. It was all happening so fast and he already felt himself losing his grip on control. Ryan obviously felt the same way. Desperate to get off, he shoved his left hand into his own jeans. They were too tight for him to fist his cock, so he settled for thrusting against his open palm. With his other hand, he began jerking Brendon off as he deep-throated him at the same time.

The entire experience lasted under two minutes. Ryan came first in hot gushes into his own hand and jeans, and Brendon followed immediately after, choking out a slutty sounding groan. Ryan took his mouth away so he could watch Brendon's cum explode from the swollen, glistening head of his cock. When his orgasm finally subsided, Ryan slid his tongue out to lick some from his hand.

As they came back down to Earth together, both entirely unable to move, Brendon murmured, "So...I take it I'm forgiven?"


	15. Open Mouth, Input Foot

After Brendon had returned to his own room to wash up before dinner, Ryan stood under the hot spray of the shower head. He was down to his last clean pair of boxers and jeans. He had more clean laundry on the tour bus and normally he'd just ask Zack to bring some up to the room, but after today's events the last thing he wanted was to give Zack a reason to imagine exactly _why_ he was going through so many clean clothes. He made a mental note that if he and Brendon were going to keep fooling around, they needed to start fully undressing first so they'd stop getting jizz all over their clothing like a couple of teenagers. He laughed to himself, then groaned, shutting his eyes and resting his forehead against the shower wall. What were they _doing_?

His mind was whirling with the events of the day. He couldn't believe Brendon had risked getting them caught, and he couldn't believe they'd actually _been_  caught. The entire cab ride home, Ryan had been sure that this was going to be the end of their "fling", or whatever the hell it was. He'd fully expected Zack to demand that they stay away from each other for a while, and he figured Brendon would adhere to that rule. Ryan worried about it all the way back to the hotel.

He was flat-out confused. He'd had sex with a small number of men in the past, and he'd enjoyed it, but he'd always peferred sex with women. Now he was starting to wonder if he'd just convinced himself of that. This week was making him question a lot of things about himself. He'd never been as strongly attracted to anyone (male _or_  female) as he was to Brendon, and the sex was so hot it was blowing his mind, which was driving him crazy because Brendon hadn't even done anything more than jerk him off yet. _Yet_ , Ryan repeated in his head. That was something that worried him. He wanted more, so much more, and he didn't know if Brendon would ever be willing to _give_ more. Maybe this _was_  just experimentation for Brendon, nothing more, and that scared Ryan because to him it was already something bigger than that.

He didn't think he'd imagined the look of disappointment in Brendon's eyes when Ryan had told Zack there was nothing going on between the two of them; that it was just a joke. Maybe Brendon was just as confused as Ryan was. Hell, he should be even _more_  confused, considering that up until now he'd only been attracted to women.

Eventually, they were going to have to talk about this.

Ryan got out of the shower, dried off, and got dressed. He towel-dried his shaggy hair and checked his phone for messages. There was a missed call from Brendon (which Ryan tried to convince himself absolutely did _not_  give him a little jolt of happiness, nope, not at all), and he tapped the call back icon.

"Hey," Brendon answered. "You hungry? Everyone wants to go The Flying-V for dinner."

"The Flying-V?" Ryan asked, amused. "What's that, a strip joint?"

Brendon laughed. "Sounds like it, but nah, it's apparently the number one rated restaurant in this area. I have no idea what the V in the name stands for. But I _do_  know they have over 70 types of tequila."

"You planning to get drunk?"

"You know I'm not a planner. But you also know I love trying new kinds of tequila. So, no promises."

Ryan hesitated long enough that Brendon noticed and asked, "What's the matter?"

"I just don't know if I feel like being around everyone tonight. Especially Zack, for obvious reasons. But after tonight, we have 4 nights in a row on the bus. That's a lot of togetherness. I guess I just want my space while I can get it."

Brendon couldn't argue with that. "I hear ya, but I'm hungry and that place sounds pretty good. Why don't we just have dinner with them, hit the bar for some tequila and head back without them?"

"That sounds good," Ryan said, truthfully. It was a perfect compromise. Without thinking, he added, "I kinda want to talk to you about stuff."

There was a long pause before Brendon said warily, "Stuff?"

Ryan sighed. "Yeah. Nothing big. I just have a couple things on my mind."

"You sound suspiciously like a chick right now, Ry."

"Sorry," Ryan said. He knew that's exactly what he sounded like. It was also what he _felt_  like.

The silence after that was awkward, so Brendon decided humor was the best way to diffuse it. "Well, in _that_  case, I'm definitely getting drunk."

*********

The restaurant was packed, with a line of people outside who were told the current wait time was two hours. Being in one of the most popular bands of the moment had its perks, however, and within minutes the four bandmates and eight crew members who'd decided to come along were seated in a comfortable VIP area with complimentary champagne already poured for them. Heaping bowls of fresh guacamole and homemade tortilla chips were spread out across the tables.

An hour and a half later, after feasting on baby back ribs, beef tendorloin, shrimp, and scallops, the conversation turned to where the party should go next. Jon had heard about another nightclub that someone highly recommended, and everyone agreed to go check it out. 

_Almost_ everyone. Brendon spoke up. "Ryan and I are just gonna hang here for a while, try out some of their tequila."

Spencer and Jon looked at him, seeming mildly surprised but not suspicious. Zack, on the other hand, glared.

"I want to get to sleep at a decent hour tonight," Ryan explained. "You know we have a bunch of bus nights coming up and I don't sleep well on the road." 

"Plus, Ryan needs to talk to me about stuff," Brendon piped up. _What the fuck!_ Ryan thought, and kicked him hard under the table. When Zack was pissed off, it wasn't time to joke around. But Brendon wasn't joking. Looking pointedly at Zack, Brendon lied expertly, "He has a song idea and needs my input."

Ryan couldn't help it. He laughed, then clamped a hand over his mouth to stop himself. Brendon looked at him, confused, clearly not getting the joke. This time he was the one to kick Ryan under the table.

Fed up with their childishness and not wanting to raise anyone else's suspicions about the situation, Zack shook his head and said, "Suit yourselves."

As soon as everyone was gone, Brendon shot an annoyed look at Ryan and said, "Why the fuck did you kick me?"

"I thought you were trying to set Zack off, telling him I need to talk to you." Ryan said. "You know he's concerned about our...situation...whatever. He's trying to keep it quiet but he's pissed about it. It seems like something you'd do for fun -- poke the sleeping bear, so to speak. See how far you can go with him. But then I realized you weren't doing that."

They were about to exit the VIP room when Brendon said, "Then why'd you laugh?"

That made Ryan start laughing again, but he forced himself to stop when he saw that Brendon was still totally in the dark about what was so funny. "Do you even remember the last thing you said to him?"

Brendon thought about it for a minute. "That you wanted my advice on a song?"

"No. You didn't say _advice_." Ryan said, and put his hand on Brendon's upper arm, stopping him before they left the empty room. He turned him so they were facing each other, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Brendon's ear. In the dirtiest tone he could muster, he murmured, "You said input. That I need your input." He reached down and palmed Brendon's crotch. "I'd fucking _love_ to get your  _input_." 

Before Brendon could react, Ryan burst into laughter again. Brendon swatted his hand away, but he'd started laughing too. "I really said that? I used the word input?" Ryan nodded. "Jesus Christ. Zack must want to kill us."

"Oh well," Ryan said, shrugging it off. "Come on. Tequila time."


	16. Failure to Communicate

Tequila tasting turned out to be more fun than Ryan had expected it to be. They started off by trying a few celebrity-created brands: Sammy Hagar, Carlos Santana, and Vince Neil were on that list. They did a shot of Patron Silver just because it was Brendon's favorite. They sipped on Avion Silver and Corzo Reposado. Then Brendon announced, "Okay. I'm sufficiently buzzed enough for whatever it is you need to talk to me about."

Ryan was having too much fun at that point and didn't feel like bringing things down to a serious level. He also didn't want to drink any more and risk getting too drunk to talk at all. He looked at Brendon and said, "We don't need to talk right now. Let's just go back to the hotel."

Brendon gave a loud laugh. Eyes twinkling, he elbowed Ryan and said, "Oh, I see how it is, Ross. You just wanted to get me drunk so you could lure me back to the room and have your way with me." Joking aside, he felt conflicted. He'd been dreading getting into what might be a too-serious talk with Ryan, but now that he'd lulled himself into a chemically-induced state of readiness, he was curious to hear what Ryan had to say.

Ryan laughed too, and shook his head, trying to clear it. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, truthfully. "I just don't want to drink any more, and the talk can wait. I just feel like climbing into bed and relaxing...and not thinking."

Brendon looked at him thoughtfully, debating. He didn't know if he should let the subject drop or try harder to get Ryan to open up. When Ryan had something on his mind, it wouldn't go away until he talked about it. Or wrote a song about it. But they were having a great time, and if Ryan wasn't in the mood to have the conversation, pushing the issue might end in an argument and ruin the whole night. Relaxing in bed sounded good, but -- wait. Ryan hadn't said anything about relaxing in bed _together_. Did he want to be alone? Maybe that's what he wanted to talk about. Maybe he was going to tell Brendon that it was time for them to stop "experimenting". Ryan had been against it from the start, after all.

Brendon chewed nervously on his lower lip as it dawned on him just how much he didn't want to stop.

"What's the matter?" Ryan asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Huh?" Brendon said, startled. "Nothing."

"You're chewing on your lip. What's wrong?" Ryan knew him too well.

Brendon decided to give him one more chance to talk. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it now? Because I'm ready for whatever it is." _Unless it's about us stopping._

Something in his tone caught Ryan's attention, and he studied Brendon's face. He looked like he was expecting bad news or bracing himself to field questions he didn't want to answer. Ryan's heart sank as he thought, _he knows I'm going to ask if he's willing to give me more, and he's going to say no._

Ryan shook his head. "Nah, I don't feel like talking about it tonight."

"So...you just want to head back and....relax?"

"Yeah."

Brendon resisted the urge to ask _"with me_?" Instead, he said, "Okay. I gotta hit the men's room before we leave." He put his wallet on the bar. "There's cash in there for the tab."

*********

The cab ride home was mostly quiet, and when they walked into the lobby there was an awkward moment where Brendon wondered if Ryan was going to invite him back to his room. But Ryan just stretched, yawned, and said, "I'll see you in the morning. G'night, Bren."

"Night," Brendon responded. Ryan was surprised to hear the disappointment in his voice, but then again, maybe he was just imagining it. Wishful thinking.

They went their separate ways. Ryan entered his hotel room, dropping his wallet and phone on the dresser. He was brushing his teeth when there was a knock on his door. He smiled with a mouth full of toothpaste.

Finishing up, he went to open it, not bothering to check the peephole. Brendon stood there, looking flustered. "Sorry, Ry. I know you want to be alone, but I can't find my stupid room key."

Ryan gave him a quizzical look as he ushered him into the room and shut the door. "What gave you the idea that I wanted to be alone?"

"Well...you made that kind of clear at the bar. You said you just wanted to go to bed and relax."

"I never said I wanted to do that _alone_."

"Yeah, but you said you didn't feel like talking, and I just thought--"

Ryan cut him off. "I thought _you_  wanted to be alone."

It was Brendon's turn to look confused. "Why the hell did you think _that_?"

"I saw how hard you had to steel yourself to hear what I wanted to talk about. I knew you didn't want to hear it."

"I _didn't_  want to hear it. I thought you were going to tell me you want to...stop."

Ryan laughed. "And I thought _you_  were going to tell me you want to stop." He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a key card. "That's why I took this out of your wallet when you left it on the bar. My way of ensuring you'd end up in my room."

A grin spread across Brendon's face and he shook his head, clearly impressed. "You smooth motherfucker," he laughed. "Very crafty, Mr. Ross." His eyes darkened then, and in a lower voice he said, "I don't want to stop. And even if I wanted to, I don't think I could."

Ryan stepped forward and put a finger under Brendon's chin, tilting his face up. When he pressed his lips to Brendon's, he did it tenderly, unlike any of their previous kisses. Ryan slipped his tongue into Brendon's mouth, both of them tasting of tequila. They kissed for what felt like an hour, keeping their hands to themselves, just enjoying the soft touch of lips, slide of tongues, and exchange of warm breath. The night was still young, and for the first time they wanted to take it slow and savor what the other had to offer.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note: I know they weren't 21 yet during the Fever era, but in this story I'm just pretending they were.  
> Sorry for the short chapter, but sexy stuff is coming up. :) Thank you so much for the kudos and nice comments you've left!


	17. Slow Like a Bullet Train

Brendon's hands were the first to start roaming. Without breaking the kiss, he slid his hands beneath Ryan's shirt, tracing the sharp lines of his hipbones before skimming his fingers up his flat stomach and rubbing his thumbs over Ryan's hard nipples. It worked on women and he was curious whether it would have any effect on Ryan. It did. Ryan's body jerked and he let out a dirty moan of pleasure and desire. He abruptly stopped kissing Brendon just long enough to yank his shirt off over his head, then tugged Brendon's own shirt upward so forcefully that Brendon thought it would rip. He helped take it off, tossing it onto the floor beside Ryan's.

Ryan pulled him in roughly to kiss him again, this time pressing their upper bodies fully together, hot skin against hot skin. Rock hard inside his jeans, he shifted his hips forward, pleased to discover that Brendon was in the exact same state of desire and need.

Suddenly, he gripped Brendon's bare shoulders, digging his fingertips in so hard that Brendon would probably have marks there tomorrow. "We're not going too fast tonight," he said, his voice guttural. "Just let me be in charge right now."

Brendon's breath hitched. He'd never experimented with dom/sub sex play, but Ryan's words sent an unexpected thrill through him. He nodded. After all, he _was_  the student.

Ryan turned Brendon until he was facing away from him, then pulled him close so Brendon's naked back was flush against Ryan's bare chest. Ryan's erection pressed demandingly against Brendon's ass through their jeans. With his left hand, he grabbed a fistful of Brendon's hair and yanked his head back, exposing the side of his neck. He licked from just beneath his ear down to his collarbone, which he sunk his teeth into. Brendon gasped in pain but rocked his ass backward to shove harder against Ryan's erection.

Ryan stopped biting and began sucking on Brendon's collarbone. He let go of Brendon's hair, but Brendon kept his head tilted back against Ryan's shoulder, moaning at the sucking sensation. Brendon's cock was throbbing and aching and he suddenly realized beyond a shadow of a doubt that sex with a female had never turned him on as much as fucking around with Ryan did. He needed contact and he reached down with his right hand to rub himself through his jeans.

Ryan forcefully shoved Brendon's hand away. "Fuck that," he said, nearly a snarl.

"Please, Ryan," Brendon moaned, sounding wrecked and desperate.

Ryan wrapped his arms around Brendon's waist and slowly went to work unbuckling the other boy's belt. He was moving painfully slow and Brendon's backward thrusts against Ryan's erection became more insistent.

Ryan couldn't help giving a low chuckle. "You want this so fucking bad, don't you? You don't even know _how_  to take it slow with me."

"Goddamn it, Ryan...just, _please_..." 

Ryan undid Brendon's belt, then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans at a snail's pace. Slowly, slowly, he inched his hand into Brendon's boxers and rubbed the tip of his thumb over the head of his cock, which was slick with precum. Brendon was leaning back solidly against him now, dying to be touched. But Ryan was having too much fun dragging it out. Instead of wrapping his fist around Brendon's dick, he lightly ran his fingertips up and down it, then reached down further to stroke his balls. 

"Fuck!" Brendon burst out and quickly shoved his jeans and boxers down to mid-thigh to allow Ryan better access.

"I didn't fucking say you could do that," Ryan admonished, but was unable to keep up the strict act when Brendon suddenly shoved his hips backward using more pressure than before, reminding Ryan of how hard his own cock was right then.

Ryan used his fingers to slick Brendon's erection up with the precum from the tip, then started a very slow stroking rhythm. Brendon was moaning like nothing Ryan had ever heard before. His head was still dropped back against Ryan's shoulders, his ass grinding into Ryan's still denim-covered crotch. Ryan grabbed Brendon's hand and put it beneath his on Brendon's dick, forcing him to jerk himself off at the same time Ryan did.

Then Ryan let go and Brendon let out an agonized groan. He recovered when he realized that Ryan had only stopped to take off his own pants. The next thing he knew, Ryan's naked, rock hard erection was nestled between Brendon's ass cheeks and Ryan's hand was back on Brendon's dick, stroking him as he thrust against Brendon. 

It was almost too much and they were supposed to be taking it slow. Brendon decided it was time to switch roles. Without asking permission he removed Ryan's hand and turned back around to face him. 

"I'm in charge now," he said, and the tone of his voice left no room for argument. Not that Ryan felt like arguing. He was too eager to see what was about to happen.

Brendon kissed him fiercely, his hands once again trailing up and down Ryan's body, this time going lower to grasp his dick. He pressed his own against Ryan's and thrust together for a few seconds, then dropped to his knees and --

"You don't have to do that," Ryan gasped, meaning it, but at the same time thinking _oh please God, fuck, please don't let him stop_.

"I fucking _want_ to," Brendon said, his voice ragged and full of want. He was so unbelievably turned on, there was no longer any doubt in his mind that he wanted to try this.

He took Ryan all the way into his mouth and Ryan's knees sagged. He let the wall hold himself up while he shuddered from the warmth and pressure of Brendon's beautiful mouth.

If he hadn't known better, he would have thought Brendon had done this many times before, because he was a natural. Of _course_  he was a natural with a mouth like that. He knew just when to suck, just when to use the pressure of his lips, and just when to tease with a light scrape of his teeth. When he added his hand to the base and began to stroke him in time with his mouth, Ryan almost lost it.

"Stop, stop, stop," he begged, pushing Brendon's head back. "Taking it slow, remember?"

Brendon smiled sexily up at him. He looked drugged, he was enjoying this so much. "We have the whole night. We can go again after this."

Ryan, panting, looked down. Brendon was still on his knees, mouth red and swollen from sucking Ryan's cock, and he was stroking himself off. Ryan almost came right on the spot. 

"Okay..." he stammered, realizing the only way to slow things down right now would be to stop entirely. "But where do you want me to--"

"I want to drink you," Brendon said, echoing Ryan's words from the other day.

"Oh fuck," Ryan cried out, "Fuck, now."

Brendon's mouth had barely made it back onto Ryan's cock before Ryan exploded. Brendon's took it all in, the bitterness, the saltiness, the heat, the absolute debauchery of it. Ryan was still coming when Brendon came too, shooting onto the hotel carpet, unable to hold back. He cried out euphorically with Ryan still in his mouth.

"Goddamn," Ryan said, sounding absolutely destroyed.

Twenty minutes later, the mess having been cleaned up, they were lying side by side in bed. The TV was off, the room was pitch black, and the only sound they could hear was the humming of the air conditioner.

"What are we going to do?" Ryan said quietly. "How are we going to stop this?"

"Why do we need to stop?" Brendon asked, feeling anxiety spread through him.

"We can't do this forever, I think you know that."

Brendon knew he was probably right, but he didn't want to admit it. He wanted it to go on for as long as it could. 

"Let's not talk about it now," he said. "Let's just sleep for a while."


	18. Caught In The Game Again

They ended up sleeping solidly through the night, waking only when someone began insistently knocking on the hotel room door. Ryan bolted upright in bed and exchanged a panicked look with Brendon, knowing that it was most likely Zack.

A glance through the peephole confirmed it. "Hold on," Ryan called through the door, pulling on his boxers and jeans from the night before. He opened the door and faced Zack, who stood there with his arms crossed. 

"Let me guess," Zack said. "He's here too."

Ryan nodded. No need to ask who "he" was. "We had too much tequila and Brendon couldn't find his room key, so..."

Zack pushed past him into the room, observing in one swift glance around that only one bed had been slept in, and Brendon was still in it. "Fuck," the bodyguard cursed. He sat heavily on the other bed, then said, "This _does not_  happen on the bus, is that understood?"

"Of course nothing's going to happen on the bus," Ryan said stiffly. He felt a pang of regret when he realized that he and Brendon had slept through their opportunity to take things slow and enjoy it. Now they were going to be stuck on a tour bus full of other people for the next four nights. Even jerking off on that damn bus was impossible without everyone else knowing about it.

"We're checking out in an hour," Zack said. To Brendon, he added, "I suggest you go to the front desk for another key so you can get into your room and pack your shit."

Brendon nodded, for once seeming to realize that it was a good time to keep his mouth shut. Usually getting a new key would be something Zack would handle for him, but he was clearly not in a generous mood right then. Not that it mattered anyway, seeing as Brendon actually _did_  have his key.

It became obvious that Zack wasn't about to leave them alone, so Ryan tossed Brendon's clothes at him. Brendon pulled his boxers and jeans on underneath the covers, then stood to put his shirt on. Ryan handed him his wallet and phone from the dresser, using sleight of hand to slip Brendon's room key card in between the two items. Zack watched as Brendon left the room, and as soon as the door closed behind him, he looked at Ryan and said, "I'm just...confused."

"You and me both," Ryan responded truthfully. He bent to retrieve his shirt from the floor, then pulled it on.

"I mean, how did this...how did...?" Zack looked genuinely bewildered. "You know what, never mind, I don't really want to know."

Ryan shrugged. "Good, because I don't really know how to explain it to you. I thought he was straight."

"Me too. I mean, yeah, he can be...flamboyant sometimes, but I thought it was just him hamming it up onstage or for the cameras. But in the past month or so, I noticed him looking at you differently."

Ryan had been wandering the room, stuffing items into his suitcase, but at that last statement his head snapped up. He stared at Zack in surprise. "What?"

"Seriously, Ryan, are you telling me you didn't notice?"

"No, I didn't fucking notice." _I was too busy trying to convince myself I wasn't attracted to him._

"Shit," Zack said, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly. "I was afraid of this, I really was. I knew you had a thing for him in the beginning."

Ryan opened and closed his mouth like a fish, torn between wanting to deny it and wanting to ask how Zack knew. Zack made the decision for him by saying, "Oh my God, stop looking so stupid. We all know that you swing both ways, and the way you looked at Brendon for the first two weeks, we were all worried about you."

Ryan said nothing, just resumed packing his things. Denying anything at this point would just be an act of futility. Zack knew where things stood now. To try to make excuses was useless.

Zack stood up and headed for the door. When he reached it, he turned back and said, "I'm even more worried about you now."

"Don't be," Ryan snapped, but as the door shut behind Zack, he couldn't quiet the voice in his head that said  _I'm worried enough for both of us._

*********

On the bus, due to the other guys' varying stages of hangovers, nobody was feeling very talkative. They had a 3-hour drive ahead of them, then rehearsal, soundcheck and show. Brendon offered Ryan a styrofoam cup of coffee and gave him a quick smile, which assuaged his fear that there might be avoidance of eye contact or any other sort of awkwardness between them. A few times throughout the ride he thought he felt Zack keeping an eye on them, but that could have just been his own paranoia.

Rehearsal and soundcheck went smoothly. They ate Chinese takeout in the rooms backstage and killed time on their laptops while they waited for the cue to change into their stage clothes. Once they were performing, Ryan was finally able to fully relax for the first time all day as he lost himself in the music. It hadn't always been that way; when they'd first started playing live shows, he'd been a nervous wreck for the first month. Now it came naturally to him.

He was brought back to reality when it was time for The Speech. That's how he'd begun to think of it, capital T and capital S. Brendon followed the script this time, air kiss and all, and Ryan felt himself begin to relax as the singer walked away from him and said the usual, "This is not that dream." 

But then Brendon turned to the audience, and with a suggestive leer, added, "He _did_  get that blowjob though."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a short chapter. Stupid writer's block! More to come soon.  
> (Title of this chapter is from the Survivor song "Caught In The Game")


	19. I'll Keep My Jealousy Close, 'Cause It's All Mine

Ryan's first impulse was to get angry, but the audience's reaction made it impossible. He'd never seen a crowd so pumped before. They were shrieking, laughing, stomping their feet and clapping, faces glowing with excitement. Brendon had them eating out of his hand; it seemed the dirtier he got during shows, the more they liked it. Ryan looked around at his bandmates and all three of them were grinning from ear to ear, fueled by the crowd's energy. Ryan felt himself relax. It was all in good fun and the fans didn't know what was really going on. More importantly, Spencer and Jon didn't know.

When the show was over, though, Zack pulled Brendon aside the minute they were all backstage. Jon and Spencer didn't pay any attention and just headed for the dressing room, but Ryan hung back a bit, trying to listen in on what was being said. Zack was talking in a low voice but Ryan caught the words "disrespectful" and "asking for trouble". When it was Brendon's turn to speak, his voice was louder. "I wasn't disrespecting you, Zack. The audience _loves_ it. They don't know what I'm talking about, all they know is it's dirty and it makes the shows more unpredictable and fun."

Zack's reply was too quiet for Ryan to overhear, but his stance made it obvious that he still wasn't happy. He finished what he was saying and walked away, brushing past Ryan without acknowledging him. Ryan approached Brendon and said, "Why do you seem hell-bent on rubbing Zack's face in this? It _is_  disrespectful. He's just trying to protect us."

"Protect what?" Brendon said, sounding slightly annoyed. "Our reputations?"

"I guess. I don't know. It's just...I think you should tone it down onstage."

"Are you kidding me, Ryan?? You saw how the fans reacted. It makes me _never_  want to stop. It makes me want to say even dirtier things."

"Please tell me you won't."

"No promises," Brendon said, smiling. With a glint in his eye he added, "Who knows what'll come out of my mouth onstage when we start doing dirtier things behind the scenes?"

Ryan felt a pang of desire but squashed it, remembering: four straight nights on the bus. He ran Brendon's words through his mind again and one jumped out at him. " _When_  we start doing dirtier things?"

Brendon blinked, momentarily taken aback. "I meant _if_ ," he quickly corrected himself.

"You said _when_. I think you meant when."

"Nope. I meant if."

"The same way you meant it when you told me we'd never do more than kiss?"

"Touche," Brendon replied, then looked around the room. When he saw that they were alone, he grabbed the front of Ryan's shirt and pulled him in for a kiss.

Ryan knew it shouldn't be happening; anyone could walk in at any time. But he wanted it too much. Brendon was dripping sweat from the show and his lips tasted salty. Ryan kissed him back fervently, putting his hands on Brendon's ass to pull their hips together, feeling both of them hardening. He pulled back and scanned the room for a place to go; a closet, a bathroom, someplace where they could go inside and shut the door behind themselves.

He spotted a closed door on the far side of the room and began pulling Brendon toward it. Brendon was laughing. "A closet quickie?" he questioned.

"Uh huh. Zack said not on the bus, right? He didn't say not backstage."

"You want me so bad, don't you?" Brendon teased, smacking him lightly on the ass for emphasis.

"Shut up," Ryan told him. "Don't act so smug, you're the one who basically begged me to kiss you in the first place."

"I wouldn't really calling it begging--" Brendon was suddenly interrupted by Spencer, who had just walked into the room.

Spencer took in the scene unfolding: Ryan pulling Brendon by his wrist toward a closet door. "Uhhh...what are you guys doing?"

Ryan dropped Brendon's wrist and spun around. "Oh, uh...we--"

"I got something in my eye," Brendon blurted, bringing his hand up to rub furiously at one of his eyes. "I need to rinse it out with water, Ryan was helping me find a bathroom."

Ryan was impressed and slightly horrified by how easily Brendon was able to come up with a lie on the spot like that. He looked at Spencer and nodded dumbly, not trusting himself to talk without saying something stupid. Brendon could handle this one.

"Well, that's not the bathroom," Spencer told them. Did he sound suspicious, or was that just Ryan's paranoia again?

"Can you lead me to one, Spence? It hurts, I can barely see."

"Sure," Spencer said, and came over to put his hand on Brendon's back, steering him toward the bathroom in the dressing area.

Once they were gone, Ryan sighed, pushing his fingers through his hair in frustration. It was going to be a long few days.

*********

Walking back to the bus, there was a huge line of fans waiting for them, squeezing their hands through the openings of the chain-link fence that separated the main parking lot from the tour bus parking area, begging for pictures and autographs. Zack led them over, pulling Sharpie markers from his pocket. He was always prepared. "We only have 5 minutes, guys," he warned the fans in a booming voice.

They spent the next 5 minutes shaking hands through the fence, taking scraps of paper and old concert tickets from the fans and scrawling their signatures on them before sliding them back through the fence. Out of the corner of his eye Ryan noticed that Brendon was spending most of his time talking to a female fan. She looked to be about their age, with glossy dark hair and big blue eyes framed with long, dark lashes. She looked familiar, but Ryan couldn't place her. He saw Brendon writing something on the CD insert she'd handed him, and he was writing more than just his signature. As he handed it back through the fence, Ryan overheard him saying, "So text or call me, we'll catch up."

And there it was again: a flash of jealousy that infuriated Ryan. Brendon could do whatever he wanted to, and Ryan could too. They weren't _boyfriends_ , after all. They were...experimenting. Ryan was the teacher and Brendon was the student, and once all the lessons had been taught, Brendon would move on and most likely go back to being with women. That was the problem with bisexuality (yes, Ryan was starting to put that label on it): it doubled the competition. But what was Ryan competing _for_? When he allowed himself to think about it, he didn't see a future for him and Brendon. The whole thing seemed more like a joke to Brendon than anything else.

Ryan absentmindedly continued signing autographs and taking pictures with fans until Zack announced that time was up and they needed to head back to the bus. A huge shout of protest came from the fans, but Zack firmly said, "Sorry, guys, we've gotta hit the road."

Back on the bus, Ryan couldn't stop himself. Trying to keep his voice casual, he asked Brendon, "Who was that girl?"

"What girl? Oh, you mean the dark-haired one? That's Sarah. We met like 6 months ago at a party. She had a boyfriend at the time, but apparently she's single now. She's friends with some of my old friends."

"Oh," Ryan said. He knew he should just drop the subject, but he had to ask, "So...are you going to call her?"

Brendon shrugged. "Don't have her number. I gave her mine, so I guess the ball's in her court."

"Oh," Ryan said again.

Brendon was looking at him quizzically, but he didn't say anything. He didn't think he liked the way this conversation was going.

They both stood there looking at each other; a confused face-off. Finally Brendon shook his head as if to clear it and said, "Alright, well, I'm gonna take a quick shower, I didn't get to inside the venue."

"Ok. I'm going to bed, I'm tired. See you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Ry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ackkk, writer's block struck for a while. Hopefully the Sarah twist will help kick start the story again.  
> Thank you again for all the nice comments & the kudos!  
> (The chapter title is a lyric from Fall Out Boy's song "Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner")


	20. Curiosity, Chemistry, and Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started posting my fics on Wattpad under the user name SinnerOnTheRight1. You can find this story here:  
> http://my.w.tt/UiNb/cngFVIpdpy  
> (I'll continue posting it here as well, but I wanted to give Wattpad a try!)

Ryan woke sometime around 2 in the morning, thirsty. Everything was quiet except for the white noise of the bus's engine as it made its way toward their next location. They had interviews later that morning, then rehearsal in the afternoon.  
  
Not wanting to wake anyone, he crawled out of his bunk as quietly as possible and made his way towards the refrigerator. As he approached, he was surprised to hear voices speaking softly from the lounge area. He slowed, then stopped just out of sight, close enough to eavesdrop.  
  
He heard Spencer first. "It's just funny, you know?" he was saying quietly. He gave a low laugh and continued, "It's like we're the Grateful Dead or Phish or something. I didn't think people still followed bands from city to city like that anymore."  
  
"Well, it's not like she's following us for the whole tour," came Brendon's muted response. "Tonight was the first show she's come to and she's only coming to the next two cities. She said it was her friend's idea."  
  
" _Sure_  it was her friend's idea," Spencer said in an amused tone. "She didn't exactly waste any time texting you."  
  
"Yeah, I gotta admit that surprised me a little bit. I figured she'd at least wait until closer to the show tomorrow."  
  
"So what are you thinking? You gonna meet up with her?"  
  
There was a pause while Brendon mulled it over, and Ryan found himself waiting with bated breath, his stomach twisting with that anxious feeling that was becoming all too familiar to him lately. Brendon's answer, when it finally came, did nothing to put him more at ease.  
  
"Well, yeah, I guess. I can't exactly blow her off, not when she's going to all this effort to see me."  
  
Spencer laughed again. "Jeez, don't sound so excited, man. She's friggin' gorgeous. It's not like spending time with her is gonna be painful," Slyly, he added, "Unless, of course, she's into that sort of thing..."  
  
Brendon snickered at that. "Shut up, asshole. She doesn't strike me as the kinky type. She's got those damn sexy eyes, though. That's the first thing I noticed when I met her at that party."  
  
There was a rustling sound as Spencer stood up and stretched, and Ryan could hear the grin on his voice as he said, "Well, I'm going to bed. Just promise me that if anything happens, you'll share the dirty details. I haven't gotten laid in weeks, so I'll just live vicariously through you for now."  
  
Ryan didn't have time to sneak back to his bunk without being seen, so on a split-second decision he tried to play it casual by entering the room just as Spencer exited, deliberately bumping into the drummer as if he hadn't know anyone else was awake. Rubbing his eyes as though he was still half asleep rather than wide awake and reeling with an unwelcome combination of nerves and jealousy, he said, "Oh, sorry, man. I thought everyone was asleep. I was coming to get a drink of water."  
  
He kept his eyes straight ahead as walked past the table, but he could feel Brendon giving him a sidelong glance, trying to ascertain exactly how much, if anything, Ryan had overheard. Ryan bent down and grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge, then straightened up, turned around and jumped a little, pretending to be startled by the other boy's presence. Brendon wasn't the only one who could put on a show. "Shit, I didn't see you there. You scared the crap out of me."  
  
Brendon sized him up for a minute, then seemed to buy his act. Or maybe he just decided it was easier to pretend right along with him. "Sorry," he said, and yawned. "Spencer and I couldn't sleep, so we were just shootin' the shit." He rose from the booth and walked over to Ryan, who twisted the lid off the water bottle and took a long swallow from it, keeping his eyes locked on Brendon's the entire time. Brendon reached out his hand. "Can I have a sip?"  
  
Ryan handed him the bottle and watched as he drank from it, recapped it, and set it down on the sideboard. Brendon's full lower lip glistened with a drop of water and Ryan was overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him. He was also overwhelmed by how fiercely he didn't want anyone _else_  to kiss him. Suddenly painfully aware that he was only wearing boxers, Ryan stole a quick look toward the front of the bus. The partition that separated the kitchen/lounge area from the driver was closed. They were alone.  
  
Once again, the magnetic pull that was between them -- call it chemistry, call it curiosity, call it _any_ word that downplayed the possibility that it might actually be anything serious -- worked its treacherous magic on them, and before Ryan knew it they were all over each other. He didn't even know who'd made the first move; all he knew was that they were kissing, except it wasn't just kissing; it was more like they were trying to devour each other. Their hands were everywhere and their breathing was unsteady as they tried not to moan. Brendon shoved at him in an attempt to reach for the waistband of Ryan's boxers, and Ryan's back collided solidly with the sideboard, knocking the water bottle off balance and sending it crashing to the floor with a loud clatter. They jumped apart at the sound, staring at each other through eyes both dazed by desire and widened by fear that they might have woken some of the others.  
  
Catching his breath, Ryan shook his head slowly, holding a hand up in front of him with his palm facing out. "Not on the bus."  
  
Too shaken to argue, Brendon just nodded, swiping an arm across his swollen mouth. Leaning down, he scooped up the water bottle and handed it to Ryan, then turned without a word and headed straight for his bunk.

 

*********

  
An unfortunate combination of sexual frustration, lack of sleep, and a creeping sense of unease over the developing situation between Brendon and "sexy eyes" Sarah was a perfect clusterfuck that resulted in a very cranky Ryan. The interviews that morning annoyed him even more than usual. Brendon was on his best behavior, but there was something more to it. He seemed...subdued, almost. The interviewers all seemed disappointed in the end results. They were used to the band joking around and, in general, putting on a good show rather than just blandly answering each question. Brendon was usually the one who pulled the most antics (Jon being second in line when it came to goofing off), but that morning Brendon was mostly quiet. Jon tried his best to lighten the mood with the help of Spencer, but their attempts at joviality fell flat.

During rehearsal Ryan broke a guitar string, and while he replaced it he saw Brendon out of the corner of his eye, texting furiously with a ridiculous grin on his face. It was the first time Ryan had seen him smile all day and his temper immediately flared. He was opening his mouth to snap at him (although he had no plan for what he was going to say) when Spencer suddenly burst out with, "Hey Bden! Whoooo ya texting...?" His tone was mocking, and he delivered the line the same way a little kid on the playground would announce, "Jimmy has a _girrrrlfrieeend_!"

Without missing a beat or looking up from his phone, Brendon quipped, "Your mother."

Spencer, Jon and Zack whooped and guffawed like frat boys at the stupid response. Laughing, Spencer lunged forward and tried to grab the phone out of Brendon's hand. Brendon reacted with lightning speed, jerking his arm out of reach, but the sudden movement threw him off balance and he toppled backward off the stool he'd been sitting on. He landed with a thud on the hardwood floor, smacking his head against the corner of an amp. "Fuck!" he shouted, losing his grip on his phone. It clattered across the floor and Spencer snatched it up, checking the screen and saying, "Ooo _ooohhhh_ , it's _Sarah_ ," as if he didn't already know.

Brendon sat up, rubbing the side of his head where a lump was already forming. "Give it back, asshat," he said, but without anger.

Spencer pretended to read the text on the screen, clearly making up what it said as he went along. "Darling, ever since I saw your pretty face, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind. Meet me tonight after the show, if you're a good girl I'll let you suck --"

"Shut up, Spencer!" Ryan finally snapped. He'd somehow managed to fix the guitar string in the middle of all the childish chaos. "Give him his fuckin' phone back. My guitar's all set, let's get this rehearsal over with so I can get the hell out of here for a while."

The room fell absolutely silent as everyone focused their attention on Ryan. Spencer and John stared at him in surprise and confusion. Zack glared at him murderously. Brendon just shook his head and closed his eyes.

"Ooookaaayyy..." Spencer said, hands raised toward Ryan as if to indicate that he'd meant no harm. He gave Brendon's phone back and helped him get up off the floor.

Instead of sitting back down on the stool, Brendon said, in a voice he was clearly trying to keep under control, "Ryan, can I have a word with you?"

Ryan set his guitar down with enough force to cause damage. "Make it fast," he spat.

They stepped outside the rehearsal room and Brendon closed the door tightly behind them. Looking Ryan directly in the eye, he said, "I'm only going to say this once. I _like_  hooking up with you, Ryan." Then he lowered his voice and added, with more than just a hint of venom, "But if you keep acting like a little _bitch_ all the time over fuck-knows-what, I'm done."

Ryan fixed him with a baleful stare, but said nothing. He was too beside himself to speak.

He also knew that Brendon was right.

They faced off like that for ten long seconds before Ryan finally gave a curt nod. The look in Brendon's eyes softened, but he wasn't ready to forgive and forget. He gave a terse nod of his own, then opened the door to the rehearsal space and walked back in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES! I finally beat the latest evil bout of writer's block. That sucked. It felt good when this chapter started coming easily to me.  
> Please let me know what you think so far. Is the story getting too repetitive? Too much angst, not enough fluff? I enjoy writing conflict (I bet you guessed that if you've read this far, or if you've read my other stuff).  
> Anyway, I would truly appreciate your honest opinions, and if you have any thoughts on where you'd like this story to go, I'd LOVE some ideas!  
> Thank you for reading!


	21. Sarah Smiles Like Sarah Doesn't Care

The rest of rehearsal was awkward and uncomfortable, with Brendon and Ryan doing everything possible to avoid interacting with each other, and Spencer and Jon afraid to talk or joke around out of fear of making things worse. The two of them had no idea what the hell was going on. Zack, on the other hand, knew _exactly_  what was going on, and he scowled as he watched the disaster of a rehearsal come to an end. When it finally did, Brendon left the room heading in one direction and Ryan left heading in the other. After a few seconds of deliberation and a promise to the other two guys that he'd be right back to help them pack up, Zack set off after Brendon.

He caught up to him at the bank of elevators, but before he had a chance to talk, Brendon said, "It's none of your business, Zack."

In spite of his rising temper, Zack kept his voice even as he replied, "See, Brendon, that's the thing. Maybe it wasn't my business before, but now it's affecting the whole band, thereby making it my business."

Brendon stayed silent, staring straight ahead at the elevator door as if he was trying to will it open with sheer mindpower.

Speaking quietly, Zack said, "What are you doing to him, Brendon?"

Brendon whipped his gaze away from the elevators and fixed Zack with a death glare. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" he said, his voice scarily low.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Zack was 6 inches taller and 100 pounds heavier than Brendon, so he didn't feel particularly threatened.

A loud ding signaled the arrival of the elevator, and the door slid open. Brendon stepped into it and jabbed at the "door close" button, but Zack shoved his arm out in front of the sensor and stepped inside with him. Brendon rolled his eyes like a bratty kid, and in spite of himself, Zack had to hide a smirk.

"Where are we heading?" he asked.

"Well, I _was_ planning to go back to the bus until soundcheck, but I don't feel like being around the other guys right now. So I was just going to take a walk."

"By other guys, you mean other _guy_. You don't want to be around Ryan," Zack stated the obvious as they exited the elevator into the main lobby.

"Sure, if you feel the need to be blunt about it, then yeah. I don't want to be around Ryan and his pissy little mood swings."

"Then we have something in common, because I don't either. And I hate that you're the one _causing_ his pissy little mood swings."

Brendon, who had been making fast strides toward the exit that led outdoors, stopped in his tracks and looked directly at Zack. "You don't think I hate it too?"

"Then why did you even start this in the first place?"

"I didn't have a fuckin' _choice_ , Zack. I didn't expect to feel like this. I like _girls_. I can't explain how it got this far, but it did, and it fucking sucks." Brendon was in Zack's face at this point. "He's my _best friend_."

Zack let those words hang in the air for a minute, feeling them sink in.

"You're going to hurt him."

"I don't want to."

"But you're going to."

They stood there in silence, still facing off against each other.

"Are you seeing Sarah tonight?" Zack finally asked.

"Yes."

"Goddammit, Brendon. You're going to ruin this whole band."

Brendon broke eye contact first. Zack turned and walked back to the elevators.

*********

Soundcheck was just as awkward as rehearsal, but they got it done. Backstage before the show, as they changed into their stage clothes, Ryan debated about approaching Brendon, but he didn't know whether he wanted to apologize or tell him to fuck off. Brendon was the one who'd started this whole mess, so Ryan was confused as to why _he_  felt the need to apologize to Brendon. He'd known it was a horrible idea from the start, so maybe he was just feeling guilty for allowing it to happen at all. But Brendon was also at fault for repeatedly throwing himself at Ryan. How was Ryan supposed to resist that, when deep down he wanted it, and had for a long time?

Unable to decide what to say to him, Ryan chose to continue avoiding him.

The show went surprisingly well, all things considered. The Speech seemed somewhat lackluster, but Ryan was pretty sure he was the only one who noticed. It was during the next song, Lying, that Ryan saw her: Sarah, in the front row. Ryan almost fucked up the song completely, but managed to get it together. He knew Brendon must have pulled some strings to get her right up front like that.

Seven songs to go and it felt like an eternity. When it was finally over, Ryan didn't think he'd ever been so happy for a show to come to an end. After taking their bow, he bolted, heading straight for the showers, where he stripped and stood under the hot spray for 10 minutes. When he came out, he threw on some jeans and a t-shirt and made his way toward the exit, heading for the tour bus. He was beyond done with this day and wanted nothing more than to hole up in his bunk and have everyone leave him the hell alone.

He was stopped short by a female voice calling out, "Ryan!"

Instinctively, Ryan turned in the direction of the voice. Sarah. Of fucking course. She was sitting next to Brendon on one of the couches. Ryan cursed himself for stopping. He'd been in this business long enough to know that sometimes it was best to ignore all the voices calling his name and just forge ahead to his destination. He was tempted to turn away from her and keep walking, but he couldn't bring himself to be that much of an asshole. Sarah hadn't done anything to him. Not knowingly, anyway.

"Hey," Ryan forced himself to say, trying to keep his tone casual but not cold. It wasn't easy to strike a balance between the two.

Sarah had no trouble striking a balance between enthusiastic and sincere. "Come back to my hotel with us!" She invited, bumping her shoulder against Brendon's and leaving no doubt as to who she meant by 'us'. "My friends and I are having a little get-together. They'd love to meet you."

Before he could stop himself, Ryan glanced in Brendon's direction. Brendon wouldn't look him in the eye.

"Thanks, but don't we have to start driving in a few hours?" Ryan asked pointedly.

"Not until five a.m." Jon said, coming up behind him and throwing his arm around Ryan's shoulders. "Come on, Ry. Me and Spence are going. Booze and girls..."

"Pretty girls," Sarah added, flashing him a smile. Under any other circumstances Ryan would have to admit she was cute, but right then all he could think was, _Nice. Throwing her friends out as bait and luring Jon in like a stupid fish._

Unfortunately, thanks to Jon, now he felt trapped and couldn't think of a way to get out of going without making an already uncomfortable situation even more uncomfortable. Thinking longingly of his bunk, he turned to Jon and said, "Fine. How are we getting there?"


	22. Just Need Enough Of You To Dull The Pain

Ryan didn't plan on getting wasted; it just happened. It might have started when, on the ride to Sarah's hotel party, he convinced Jon and Spencer to stop at a bar for a couple rounds of pregame shots. And it may have escalated once he got to the hotel and made it his job to locate the nearest keg and stand beside it, refilling his cup every few minutes. Whatever the reason, it was 1:30 in the morning and he was pleasantly drunk.

When they'd arrived at the hotel a little after midnight, Ryan already had a good buzz going. When he saw that Sarah and her friends were staying in a luxury suite rather than just a standard two double-bedded room, his first (albeit, ungracious) thought was, _Somebody's daddy has money_. He spared a quick glance around the main room, just long enough to see Sarah sitting on Brendon's lap on the couch. He dropped his gaze and made a beeline for the keg, which he found in the kitchen area. And there he stayed. His only highlight of the night was when Jon and Spencer decided to compete in a keg-stand battle, and he was designated as the valve operator. (Jon won after guzzling for 43 seconds straight, while Spencer only lasted 27. Jon's hair, however, was damp and flecked with foam after his turn and Ryan suspected that he'd cheated by letting most of the beer drizzle out of the corner of his mouth while he was upside down).

Sarah wanted to be friends with him. She made it clear by disentangling herself from Brendon and approaching Ryan shortly after he showed up. She was outgoing and personable, and Ryan found it almost impossible to dislike her. Every time he found himself relaxing into conversation with her, though, he looked across the room and saw Brendon keeping a watchful eye on them. He couldn't tell if Brendon was watching because he was longing for Sarah to come back to him, or if he was just worrying that Ryan was going to tell her something he shouldn't.

Now, Jon came over to refill his cup. He lingered for a minute, sizing Ryan up, and then said bluntly, "Okay, what's with you?"

Ryan just looked at him, impassively. He was tempted to go off on Jon; tell him all the little details, make him regret ever asking. Instead, pacified by the booze, he simply shrugged. "Nothing's with me. Why?"

Never one to back down, Jon persisted, "We're not stupid, you know. Spencer and I can tell that _something's_  going on with you and Brendon."

Ryan wasn't about to share details. He was drunk, but not _that_  drunk. Unfortunately, he was also weary and didn't feel like summoning the acting skills required to make a full denial. "Whatever you think you know, it's probably wrong," he said.

"Do you want me to tell you what we think we know?" Jon pressed on.

"Not tonight," Ryan answered, topping off his beer again and taking another swig.

At that moment, the music that had been pumping through the suite's speaker system was turned way down so that one of Sarah's friends could announce, "Hey guys! Killarney's Pub, downstairs, is closing in 15! Who wants to do last call?"

A rowdy cry erupted from the entire group, and even in his altered state, Ryan wondered why the cops hadn't broken this party up yet. Weren't there, like, families with little kids on this floor? Didn't anybody sleep anymore?

He watched as all the partygoers, Jon included, started streaming out the door and into the hallway. He had no intention of giving up his prime spot beside the keg, so he stayed put and waited until the guests cleared out. As soon as the door began to close behind the last person, he relaxed and slumped against the counter, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his left hand, still clutching the Solo cup in his right.

Just before the door clicked shut, Jon shoved it open again. Ryan didn't move. "Okay. Look, Ry, you can pretend to be a statue if you want, but you can't fool me. You're not famous enough for anyone to make a Ryan statue. Let's go, you don't want to miss what could be the best part of the night."

Ryan shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do was join the others. But Jon said, "I'm not leaving you here," and Ryan knew that he had no choice. Jon could be a stubborn bastard.

So could Ryan. Even in his inebriated state he was able to come up with a plan."Fine. Wait here. I need to take a piss," he told Jon.

Jon sighed loudly, clearly impatient, but he waited.

In the bathroom, Ryan gathered up a fistful of toilet paper and stuffed it into the back waistband of his pants. He followed Jon out into the hall, then surreptitiously dropped the toilet paper onto the floor and used the heel of his shoe to shove it backwards, preventing the door from falling all the way closed. Jon was so intent on making it to Killarney's before closing time that he didn't even notice. They rode the elevator down together and quickly located Killarney's by the sheer volume of noise -- a combination of music and drunk idiots shouting in order to be heard over it -- that was coming from the place.

Ryan waited until they were inside and Jon was suitably distracted. Then he pulled an about-face and headed straight back to the suite. There was a keg, and welcome silence, waiting for him.

*********

Ten minutes later, he was sitting on the couch with a fresh Solo cup of frothy beer. The room was dimly lit and there was a fire crackling in the fireplace, casting a hazy orange glow across the walls. Under any other circumstances, he'd find it soothing, but tonight he just wished he was back on the bus. He decided that he'd finish his beer and call a cab. The other guys could find their own way back. Satisfied by that thought, he was just starting to relax when he was startled by a sharp knock on the door. He was instantly annoyed. This wasn't even his room! He didn't even want to be here! The knock wasn't his problem. He'd ignore it.

His plan worked for about 20 seconds, until the knocking became more insistent and was accompanied by a voice calling his name. It was Brendon. Ryan dropped his head back against the couch in frustration, squeezing his eyes shut in the hopes that it would make all of this go away. It didn't work.

Ryan was furious over the events of the past two days: Brendon choosing Sarah, Brendon calling him out on his pissy behavior, Brendon being an all-around, complete asshole. All Ryan wanted was to be asleep in his bunk right now. He didn't know why he'd allowed himself to get peer pressured into coming to this stupid party.

Slamming his plastic cup down on the coffee table so hard that beer erupted out of it like lava from a volcano, Ryan stomped over to the door and yanked it open. Brendon didn't waste any time with small talk; he just pushed his way into the room, brushing Ryan aside. The door shut with a click behind them, and they stared at each other.

Brendon spoke first. "You're jealous."

The words would have pissed Ryan off if it weren't for the tone they were delivered in. Brendon didn't sound smug, or angry. He sounded surprised, like the possibility that Ryan might be jealous had never occurred to him. Ryan didn't know what to say to that, so he stayed quiet.

"Are... _are_ you jealous?" Brendon pressed on. He was lacking his usual self confidence.

Ryan considered answering him with a harsh, "Don't flatter yourself." But he was tired of fighting, and he was relaxed from the beer, and it seemed like a good time to let bygones be bygones and try to get their friendship - or whatever it was now - back on track again.

He gave Brendon the briefest of nods, their eyes still locked. Brendon's shoulders fell, like the wind had been taken out of his sails. He thought about the way he'd treated Ryan at rehearsal, and wished he could take it back.

Ryan began to turn away so he could grab his beer from the coffee table, but he stopped when Brendon said, "Hey." Brendon approached him slowly, then reached out to touch his wrist. "I'm sorry." He said softly. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

Ryan gave a hollow laugh before replying, "Me neither." Again he started toward his beer, but Brendon loosely wrapped his fingers around his wrist and pulled him back. Ryan turned to him, wanting to tug his wrist out of his grasp, but also anchored in place by curiosity about what Brendon's next move was going to be.

Brendon pulled him closer, then said, "hey," again, just before putting his arms around Ryan's shoulders and enveloping him in a hug. "I'm sorry," he repeated, his mouth so close to Ryan's ear that Ryan could feel the tickle of his warm breath. In spite of himself, he couldn't stop from relaxing into the hug, leaning into Brendon until his head rested solidly on his shoulder. He brought his arms up and put them around Brendon's waist.

Brendon sifted his fingers through the back of Ryan's hair. It was a soothing gesture; apologetic and comforting, not meant to be suggestive or arousing. Unfortunately for Ryan (who was quick to blame it on the alcohol), it had the latter effect on him. His breath hitched and he pressed himself closer, seeking body heat and validation of the connection they shared. The connection that Ryan had never expected to act upon, and the one they were both doing their best to deny to themselves as well as everyone else.

Brendon sensed the shift in mood. The fingers that he had in Ryan's hair lost their gentleness and curled into a fist, gripping a handful and tugging Ryan's head back so they were once again face to face.

Ryan's body immediately went into fight-or-flight mode, but he didn't have the willpower to follow through on either reflex. He couldn't take his eyes off of Brendon's mouth.

"What the fuck are we doing?" Brendon said quietly, but he wasn't looking for an answer, because he knew neither of them had one. In the next instant his mouth was on Ryan's.

Ryan's arms were still around Brendon's waist, and he let his hands trail down to the top of Brendon's jeans, cursing because the waistband was too tight for him to do more than slip just his fingertips inside. Impatiently, he pulled them back out and slid his hands down the outside of the denim to grab Brendon's ass and pull him forward so their hips were pressed tightly together. Brendon rolled his hips into his and they both moaned, Brendon's grasp tightening in Ryan's hair. He slid his free hand between them and cupped Ryan, who was more than half hard already. Ryan pushed into his palm, groaning and sinking his teeth into Brendon's lower lip.

Brendon deftly undid Ryan's belt with one hand and worked the button open, starting for his zipper when Ryan reluctantly pulled back. "Not here, they'll be back any time."

"We'll hear them coming," Brendon said, and aggressively pulled him back in for a greedy kiss, breaking it only to say, "I fucking _need_ you right now, it's probably our only chance to be alone for the next few days."

"What about Sarah?" Ryan asked. He didn't mean to sound bitter, but that's the way it came out.

Brendon ignored his tone. "I want you more," He said against Ryan's mouth. "You make me so fucking hard, you don't even know."

Ryan felt the tension finally leaving his body for the first time in two days. He rocked his hips against Brendon's and smiled. "Oh, I think I fucking know."

Brendon let out a sound that was part growl, part moan, and frantically went for the zipper on Ryan's pants again. This time he got it down and slipped his hand inside, beneath the boxers, and wrapped his hand around Ryan's cock. Ryan's knees threatened to buckle, and he shoved his hands underneath Brendon's shirt, raking his blunt nails up his back hard enough to leave marks. Brendon arched backward into it, unexpectedly turned on by the pain.

"Tell me what you want," he said on a sigh, continuing to stroke Ryan's dick.

Ryan was having trouble formulating coherent thoughts, let alone trying to find words to describe all the things he wanted right then, but he managed to plead, "Undo your pants." Brendon gave a low laugh, but wasted no time in going for his own belt to unbuckle it.

That was when they heard the unmistakable sound of drunk, loud people coming down the hall toward the room. Killarney's had definitely closed for the night.

"Bathroom," Brendon said without hesitating. He grabbed Ryan's wrist roughly and yanked him down the short hallway into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind them. It was pitch black, but neither of them bothered to search for the light switch. There was no time. Instantly, they were on each other, kissing eagerly and breathlessly, shoving each others jeans and boxers down to mid-thigh. Ryan sank to his knees and wasted no time taking Brendon's cock deep into his throat, aggressively digging his fingers into the cheeks of his ass to pull him deeper. Brendon let out a loud, slutty moan that had Ryan desperately reaching for his own aching erection. They only had a matter of minutes before the hotel room was once again flooded with people, and Ryan needed to fucking get off.

He sucked Brendon's dick like his life depended on it. Brendon felt like he was falling apart at the seams, unable to keep quiet. He stumbled back a bit to lean against the counter for support. That was when Ryan stuck a finger into his own mouth, slicking it up with saliva, and reached between Brendon's legs, teasing the outside of his entrance with just the tip of his finger. Brendon immediately tensed up; this wasn't something he'd given much thought to...yet.

Ryan sucked hard on Brendon's cock, swirling his tongue around the head using as much pressure as he could muster, then popped his mouth off for a minute to say, "I'm going to fuck you, Brendon. Not tonight, but I'm gonna fuck you when we have time. When you're ready." He put his mouth back onto the head of Brendon's cock and slipped his finger slowly past the ring of muscle and into Brendon's ass. It wasn't a lot; he didn't want to scare him off, so he stopped before he was even to the first knuckle. And that was all it took.

"I'm gonna come," Brendon gasped, breathing raggedly. Ryan smiled with his mouth full and gave one final hard suck as Brendon came, moaning so loudly that Ryan wished he could put a hand over his mouth.

Brendon recovered, then reached for Ryan, pulling him back up. He kissed him, then touched the head of Ryan's dick, which was rock hard and leaking. He was on the edge. Brendon gripped him solidly and started stroking, sucking on Ryan's neck, pulling at his hair with his free hand. There was a knock at the door just as Ryan lost control, coming over Brendon's fist and biting into his shoulder to muffle his sounds.

They stood, panting, in the darkened room. Brendon reached behind him to feel along the counter top, hoping to find a towel to clean up.

The knocking on the door became more insistent and Brendon called, "Be right out, Ryan drank too much, he's getting sick." On a whisper, he hissed to Ryan, "Just play along."

Ryan made gagging and heaving sounds as Brendon finally went and located the light switch. They got cleaned up, then flushed the toilet as Brendon said loudly, "Okay, Ry, I think you're good, let's get you home."

When they opened the bathroom door, Jon was on the other side. His arms were crossed and his eyes narrowed as he looked at them. Standing directly behind him was Sarah, her eyebrows furrowed with concern and what might have been something else. Suspicion?

Brendon put his arm beneath Ryan's arms, as if he was helping him walk. Jon automatically went to Ryan's other side to assist. "Sick, huh?" he muttered to Brendon, catching his eye. Sarah said nothing.

Brendon knew that they weren't going to be able to keep their "secret" a secret for much longer, unless they stopped what they were doing. And he honestly couldn't see that happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Fall Out Boy's "Twin Skeletons". :D  
> 


	23. These Little Things That You've Been Running From

It was definitely time to head back to the tour bus, which was scheduled to leave for the next location in less than 90 minutes. Flanked on either side by Brendon and Jon, Ryan put effort into playing the role of stumbling, drunk fool. The truth was, he had sobered up considerably and could have walked just fine on his own, but he knew it was important to keep up appearances. Especially because Sarah was following close behind them, observing everything with an expression of confused concern on her face.

When they reached the door of the suite, it was already open, more guests returning to the room from Killarney's. Brendon seemed to have forgotten about Sarah as he and Jon steered fake-drunk Ryan toward the hallway, but suddenly Sarah reached out and touched his arm. "Brendon?" she questioned uneasily. Ryan felt Brendon stiffen briefly before he stopped and turned to face her.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Brendon said. "I'll text you tomorrow. Gotta get him back to the bus."

She nodded understandingly, but then leaned forward, going up on her tiptoes to press her lips against Brendon's. Ryan felt a flash of annoyance, followed by the snarky thought:  _Ha. You're a little late - I already had him._

Brendon pulled back awkwardly after the kiss. He looked like a cornered animal, and Ryan had the unexpected urge to laugh. He bit it back, though, as Brendon told Sarah, "Thanks for having us. I'll be in touch, okay?" _The fuck you will_ , Ryan thought nastily, then realized maybe he was drunker than he thought.

Once they were out on the sidewalk, they hailed a taxi. It took a few minutes and the three of them stood in silence until one finally pulled up to the curb. Brendon opened the back door and put a hand on Ryan's lower back to push him into the backseat. Once he was inside, Ryan heard Brendon and Jon begin to argue on the sidewalk. He leaned closer to the open door to evesdrop.

"One of us has to go back and round up the other guys, or we're going to miss bus call," Jon said. "I don't know what the hell is going on with you two, but I'm thinking that _I_ should go with him and _you_ should go get the others."

"Fuck that," Brendon replied heatedly. "I'm going with him. He stayed with me when I was sick from drinking too much, and now I'm going to return the favor."

There was a long pause before Jon said, "We're not stupid, you know. We all know you and Ryan are hooking up."

"Think what you want," Brendon snapped. He climbed into the taxi next to Ryan and slammed the door shut. As the cab pulled away from the curb, Brendon gave the driver the address where the tour bus was parked, then leaned his head back against the seat, looking out the window and avoiding Ryan's gaze.

After a few minutes of silence, Ryan cleared his throat and said, "So..." He waited a few seconds. Brendon didn't react, so Ryan continued, "Looks like everyone knows about us."

Brendon didn't lift his head from the back of the seat, but he swiveled his neck to look at Ryan. "They don't know shit," he said. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I don't know shit, either."

Ryan frowned. Brendon's tone was hard to read. He didn't sound angry, but he didn't sound happy either. He sounded mostly confused. Maybe even resigned. Ryan signed. "We're not supposed to have all the answers."

He expected Brendon to look away and end the conversation, but Brendon surprised him by saying, "I guess I just wasn't expecting... _this_."

Ryan lifted an eyebrow at him. "Trust me," he said, "I'm the last one who would _ever_  have expected... _this_." Brendon nodded in agreement, then looked back out the window.

Ryan waited a minute, feeling unnerved. He'd known Brendon for years, and this was the first time he truly felt unable to read him. Usually, Brendon was an open book. Ryan wanted to dig further, get him to say more, but before he could formulate words, Brendon spoke first. "This isn't Taxicab Confessions."

A joke. Brendon was smirking now, and Ryan felt like he'd missed an opportunity. He'd held the moment in his hands, then let it slip through his fingers.

They pulled up to the lot where the bus was parked. It was surrounded by tall chain link fences on all four sides, with a gate that was closed and locked. Brendon pulled out his phone to call Zack, but the bodyguard must have been watching for them because he emerged from the bus just then and opened the gate. Ryan was relieved to see that there were no fans milling around. Even at 4:00 in the morning, some of the die-hard fans would camp out, hoping for a glimpse of their idols, or better yet, an invitation onto the bus for a quickie.

It could be exhausting.

Zack paid the cab fare before Brendon or Ryan had a chance to, then ushered them toward the bus. "Where's everyone else? We leave in an hour."

"They'll be here soon," Brendon assured him.

Zack stayed at the front of the bus to keep an eye out for the others. Over his shoulder, he called to them, "You two best behave yourselves." His tone was mostly teasing.

Brendon and Ryan headed to the bunk area, where they simultaneously stripped down to their boxers, getting ready to climb into their bunks for a few hours' sleep. Brendon snuck a quick glance around to verify that they were alone. Then he surprised Ryan by pushing him gently back against the wall. "I just have one question," he said, leaning forward to nip at Ryan's lower lip with his teeth. Even as tired as he was, Ryan felt his body respond. When Brendon pulled back, Ryan whispered, "What's the question?"

Brendon looked at him, his eyes dark, a smile playing around his lips. "That thing you said...about fucking me?"

Ryan swallowed hard. He worried that he'd gone too far. But then Brendon continued, "What makes you so sure I'd want to be on the bottom? I think I'd make a damn good power top."

With a wicked laugh, he pressed a hard kiss on Ryan's mouth, then said, "Whelp, goodnight!" and crawled into his bunk, leaving Ryan standing there, breathing heavily, his mind filling with all kinds of hot, dirty images.

Sleep wasn't going to come easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! Sorry this chapter was on the short side. I wanted to get SOMETHING posted to show I haven't abandoned this story. :) Hope you're all still with me. I'll try to get the next part posted soon!


	24. A Coast That's Unclear

Sleep did _not_ come easily. Ryan had no sooner closed his eyes than the sound of Jon and Spencer clambering back onto the bus startled him awake again. After that, he couldn't seem to shut his brain off. He lay in his bunk for what felt like hours, long after the noise of the guys getting settled into their bunks turned into the sound of them snoring. Two more bus nights. His stomach fluttered with nerves when he thought of all the possibilities the next hotel night could hold.

After one last solid attempt at falling asleep failed, Ryan sighed and gave up. Grabbing his book from the foot of the bunk, he crawled out and headed for the lounge area, dragging his comforter behind him.

Early morning light was filtering in through the curtains above the table. Ryan wrapped the blanket around himself, slid into the booth, and pushed the curtain open a few inches. He opened his book and tried to focus on reading, but his mind wouldn't stop wandering. Yawning, he finally gave up on that as well, and let his head fall back against the wall so he could stare out the window. It wasn't long before his eyes finally drifted closed.

That's where Brendon found him a couple hours later. Nobody else was awake yet. Brendon smiled a little and slid into the booth beside him, resting his head on Ryan's shoulder and waiting for him to wake up.

And that's where Jon found them, both fast asleep, shortly after that. He pulled up short, causing Spencer to bump into him. "What the hell, Jon?" Spencer griped, his hangover having robbed him of patience. Jon snickered and pointed, moving aside so Spencer could see for himself. Spencer groaned, but it was more amused than anything.

"I can't say I'm really surprised," he said.

"Me either," Jon agreed. "Go get your camera."

"What?"

"Your camera - go get it."

Spencer hesitated. "Why?"

"For blackmail purposes," Jon told him, adding, "duh."

"But you're not going to post it anywhere, right?"

"Hell no. I just want it so we can hang it over their heads and threaten to post it somewhere."

Spencer smirked. "Well, in that case..."

He went to grab his camera, and they proceeded to spend the next five minutes taking turns posing in front of their sleeping, snuggling friends. Jon was just about to start drawing a penis on Brendon's hand with a Sharpie he'd found, when Ryan suddenly opened his eyes.

He was disoriented and it took him a minute to register that Jon and Spencer were standing there with a camera, Jon with Sharpie in hand. Ryan had spent enough hours traveling with them in vans and buses to know that they were up to no good, and he was instantly wide awake. It was only when he tried to leap up that he realized Brendon was leaning against him, and still very much asleep. Ryan settled back into the booth and glared at the other two. In a quiet voice, he said, "Joke's over. Delete whatever pictures you took."

Ever the wise-ass, Jon smirked and retorted, "We'll delete the pics when you finally admit that there's something going on with you and B."

Ryan reacted reflexively with a denial. Flatly, he stated, "There's nothing going on with me and Brendon. Okay? Now give me the camera."

Jon stepped back, taking he camera out of Spencer's hands and holding it above his head. "That wasn't convincing enough," he teased.

Suddenly, Brendon's right arm shot out, his fingers spread wide. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet, but he spoke in a clear voice. "Give. It."

Jon's eyes widened, and then he busted out laughing. "Why should I--"

He was interrupted by Brendon, who still hadn't opened his eyes. "Walker, if you don't give me that camera, I'll inform your girlfriend back home about everything you've been doing the past week."

Jon let out a mock, scandalized gasp. "Tour rules, man!" he protested.

"Those pictures fall under the category of tour rules, too," Brendon said. He closed his outstretched hand into a fist, then flung his fingers open again in a clear "give me it" gesture. Jon huffed and leaned forward, pressing the camera into Brendon's palm. Brendon closed his fingers around it and said succinctly, "Thank you."

He finally opened his eyes and looked at the camera, pressing the left side of the circular button to scroll through the pictures they had taken. A smile slowly formed on his lips and he said, "Awww, Ry, look at how cute we are!" He hit the button once more and the smile turned into a grimace "Eww, Jon, did you really need to moon the fucking camera? Nobody needs to see your bare ass."

"I was going to do worse but Spencer wouldn't let me," Jon complained, shoving Spencer.

"I didn't want to risk breaking my camera," Spencer deadpanned.

Brendon sat up straight, stretched, and set the camera on the table. Nobody mentioned that he hadn't deleted any of the pictures.

*****

They passed the time until soundcheck by watching movies. Brendon mostly stayed close to Ryan the whole time, sitting close enough on the couch that their thighs were nearly touching. Ryan enjoyed it up until the point when Brendon started texting someone, and Ryan had a feeling he knew who it was. After a few minutes of it, he asked in a low voice, "Is she coming to the show tonight?"

Brendon hesitated for a couple of seconds before giving a brief nod. "It's the last one she's coming to."

"Good." The word slipped out before Ryan could stop it. Mentally, he kicked himself. Brendon said nothing.

*****

Twenty minutes before showtime, Ryan was alone in the dressing room, changing into his stage clothes. He wasn't in the greatest mood, and he was mad at himself for still letting the Sarah situation get to him. She might be there tonight, but she wouldn't be around come hotel night. Still, her mere existence felt like an obstacle to overcome, which seemed really stupid. What did he expect? That he and Brendon were going to suddenly confess their undying love to each other and enter into a committed relationship? Brendon still wouldn't even admit to himself that he was bisexual or gay. Ryan shook his head, frustrated, and took one last look in the mirror to check his makeup - a thick stripe of purple across both kohl-rimmed eyes.

Showtime.

*****

She was in the front row again. Ryan found himself trying not to look at her. Instead, he focused on Brendon, who to his annoyance seemed to be paying entirely too much attention to her. Ryan decided to spend more time over by Jon, which helped...until it was time for The Speech.

Brendon approached him as he usually did. Ryan suspected that he wouldn't get very close with Sarah watching. When he leaned in for the fake kiss, Ryan caught him off guard by stepping forward into his space. He stopped strumming his guitar and brought his right hand up to the back of Brendon's head, gripping his hair and pulling him forward. Then he went in for the kill and licked a stripe up Brendon's neck, tasting the saltiness of his sweat. He felt Brendon jolt and pull back, and he dropped his hand back to his guitar and turned away with an evil, satisfied grin. The audience was flipping out and Ryan stole a glance at Sarah. She was saying something to the friend beside her, gesturing with her hands. He wished he could hear what she was saying.

*****

Coming offstage, Ryan braced himself for the fallout. He expected Brendon to say something sarcastic or maybe even angry, but instead he just brushed past him as he headed for the shower.

Jon clapped Ryan on the back and said, "Dude, if you guys keep testing your limits during the speech, pretty soon you'll be dry humping on stage." He laughed and Ryan laughed in response, but it wasn't heartfelt.

When Brendon emerged from the shower, he was dressed in jeans and a red hoodie. Towel drying his hair, he made his way toward the door leading to the hallway without pausing to look around. The door shut behind him and Ryan sighed and went to take a shower before anyone else could claim it.

He wished he could stand under the hot spray for an hour, but he knew the others would be knocking on the door soon enough. When he returned to the main room, Brendon wasn't back yet. Ryan didn't have to guess who he was off with. He grabbed a beer from the stocked mini fridge and set off to find Zack to escort him back to the bus. Zack insisted on accompanying each of them so he could help manage the fans who would undoubtedly be lined up outside, pleading for autographs and pictures.

He didn't have to search for long, as Zack was standing in the hallway just outside the door. "I'm ready to get back on the bus," Ryan told him. He wasn't expecting any reaction out of Zack besides a simple "okay", so he was taken aback when the bodyguard seemed to almost flinch.

Zack hesitated as if trying to decide what to say. Finally, he came out with, "Right now?"

Ryan could see that he was tense. He was avoiding eye contact. Slowly, Ryan answered, "Yes, right now."

Zack looked down at the floor and cleared his throat. "Uh, Ryan, I don't think now is a good time. Why don't you go grab a bite to eat, kill some time here? You're gonna be stuck on the bus for the next 12 hours, why start now?"

Ryan twisted the cap off his beer and took a long drink. He said pointedly, "Zack. Cut the shit and tell me what the hell is going on."

Zack's jaw clenched. He finally leveled his eyes on Ryan's and said, "This is exactly the shit that I don't want to be put in the middle of it, but here I am. Ryan, if you need me to spell it out for you, the reason I think you should wait is because Brendon and Sarah are on the bus at the moment." He paused, then added emphatically, " _Alone_."

Ryan bristled. He knew that Brendon was with Sarah, but, "On the bus?" he snapped. "What the fuck? So just because they wanted alone time, the rest of us aren't allowed on our own bus?"

Zack raised his hands in a show of clear conscience. "Hey, I never said you couldn't go back on the bus. I'm just saying that you probably don't want to."

Ryan stood there, overcome with frustration. Maybe he should go storm the bus and interrupt them. It was rude of them to expect everyone else to stay away. Ryan recalled the words Brendon had said to him, talking about his near hookup with Emma. _She doesn't kiss as good as you do_. Well, maybe Sarah did.

Feeling unexpectedly sympathetic, Zack said gently, "She'll be gone soon, you know."

"It might not be out of sight, out of mind, though," Ryan said. "And that's what really matters." He turned on his heel and went back into the dressing room.

*****

Five minutes passed, and Spencer approached Ryan, who was sitting on the couch with his head resting against the back of it. Spencer held out a small paper cup. "Have this," he said.

"What is it?" Ryan asked.

"Whiskey. Double shot. You look like you need it."

Ryan reached for it and slugged it back, chasing it with a sip of what was left of his beer. Spencer sat down beside him. "Um," he began, unsurely. "I know this isn't exactly my place, but...if you want to talk about it. About...Brendon. You can talk to me."

Ryan looked him in the eye and decided not to bother denying anything. "Thanks, Spence. But I'm good," he lied.

"I just want you to know that Jon and I are okay with whatever's going on, as long as it doesn't hurt the band," Spencer said. "But I gotta say...right now it seems like it's hurting the band."

"It's hurting _me_ ," Ryan blurted. As soon as he said it, he realized it was a confession. It was as close as he'd come to admitting to anyone that something was going on between him and Brendon.

To his credit, Spencer didn't react. He just said quietly, "I know it is. I think he's confused."

"I _know_ he's confused,"

"Maybe things will become clearer once Sarah's out of the picture."

"Will she be, though? Just because she's leaving tonight doesn't mean he won't pursue it. Tour will be over in a month, he'll have the freedom to go wherever and do whatever he wants then."

"That leaves a whole month for him to be away from her and figure out what he really wants," Spencer pointed out.

Ryan stood up and crossed the room, refilling his cup with more whiskey. The warmth had spread throughout his system and he wanted the buzz to last. Returning to his spot next to Spencer, he swallowed the shot and leaned his head back again, closing his eyes.

A couple of minutes passed in silence, and then Spencer said, "Uh, Ryan?"

Ryan opened his eyes to see Brendon approaching him. Brendon stretched a hand out to him and said, "Hey. Can I talk to you for a minute?"


	25. It Feels Like We're Pulling Teeth, So Bittersweet

Brendon grasped Ryan's hand and pulled him to his feet. Ryan was still angry with him, but curiosity got the better of him and he found himself willingly following Brendon out into the hallway. Zack glanced at them and lifted an eyebrow, then looked away.  
  
A few doors down, they found an empty room. Brendon pulled him inside and closed the door behind them.  
  
Ryan crossed his arms over his chest. "Where's Sarah?" he asked. He didn't mean for it to sound as snarky as it came out.  
  
Brendon seemed agitated. "She's gone."  
  
Ryan gave a sharp laugh. "So, what? You fucked her on the bus and then sent her on her way?"  
  
Brendon frowned at him. "For your information, I didn't fuck her. On the bus or anywhere else."  
  
This temporarily shut Ryan up. He hadn't expected to hear that. He tried to come up with a response, but before he had a chance, Brendon spoke again. "You've got me all fucked up, Ryan."  
  
Ryan stared at him, the words slowly sinking in. When at last he responded, he chose his words carefully and delivered them quietly but firmly. "Look, Brendon. You started this whole thing. You made the first move, _y_ _ou_ wanted to try this. I'm sorry that you can't deal with whatever it is you're feeling, but that's on you, not me."  
  
The room grew silent, each of them staring the other down. Brendon looked away first, shoving his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I just --" he started, shaking his head and backing away. "I just don't know what this _is._ I don't know why this started, I don't know _what_ the fuck I'm doing, what the fuck I even want."  
  
"You don't say," Ryan stated dryly, trying hard to keep his tone from reflecting the darkness that had settled in his gut.  
  
Brendon looked at him then, his eyes tortured. "I think maybe we should stop." His voice broke on the last word, and he looked down at the floor.  
  
Ryan swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump that had formed in his throat. "Is that what you really want?" he questioned, his voice barely audible.  
  
"I just said, I don't _know_ what the fuck I want." Brendon said, lifting his chin defiantly. This time his eyes were blazing.  
  
Ryan had the sudden sense that he was walking on eggshells and needed to tread very, very carefully. "You know what, Brendon?" he started. "Nobody ever said we needed to put a label on this. If that's the thing that's bothering you."  
  
Brendon had backed up enough that he was able to slump against the wall. "I don't give a shit about labels. Or maybe I do. I don't fucking _know_! It's like this huge thing that's just hanging over my head right now. Am I gay? Am I bi? What the fuck am I doing?"  
  
"See?" Ryan said. "You're trying to label it."  
  
Brendon closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.  
  
"You're overthinking," Ryan said, sounding resigned. "I can't help you figure this out. It's something you have to figure out on your own."  
  
"Yeah," Brendon mumbled.  
  
A sudden wave of resentment washed over Ryan. This was exactly why he'd tried to discourage Brendon from experimenting in the first place. Deep down, he'd known it would eventually result in this type of discord and confusion. As much as he wanted to feel sympathy for Brendon, he couldn't manage it. "Well, good luck with that. Take all the time you need." he snapped, and started towards the door.  
  
" _Ryan_ ," Brendon bit out, effectively stopping him in his tracks. "Come here."  
  
Ryan turned to him, surprised and hesitant. He slowly crossed the room, taking in Brendon's dark hair which was sticking up in spiky tufts from having thrust his fingers through it. He looked stressed out and tired. Brendon held his arms out and repeated, "come here."  
  
Ryan went. He stepped forward and leaned into Brendon, feeling his arms close around him and pull him in. Ryan brought his own arms up and loosely wrapped them around Brendon's waist.  
  
"I'm sorry," Brendon said, his mouth against Ryan's shoulder. "I'm fucked up."  
  
"So you said," Ryan muttered, but without malice.  
  
"I just need time. Maybe we don't have to stop. But I need time to figure shit out."  
  
"In order for you to figure anything out, I think we need to stop."  
  
Things grew quiet again, neither man moving until Brendon slid his hand into Ryan's hair. He turned his face so his mouth was against Ryan's ear, then murmured, "I don't know how to stop."  
  
Ryan's body responded instantly, and he silently cursed himself. He took a step back. "Let's just take it down a notch for a while. Back to being friends."  
  
Brendon made a mournful sound, but dropped his arms. "It's not like we ever stopped being friends," he mumbled.  
  
"I know, but we definitely screwed up the normal balance of things."  
  
Brendon suddenly perked up a little, and said, "You licked my neck on stage, you sneaky bastard."  
  
Ryan had to laugh at that. "Sorry," he said. "It was a spur of the moment thing."  
  
"It's one of the reasons Sarah left so soon, you know. She has her suspicions about us."  
  
Ryan felt a twinge of guilt. "Shit. I'm sorry."  
  
"You did it on purpose, didn't you?"  
  
He couldn't lie. "I guess I did. But it wasn't a conscious effort."  
  
Brendon didn't look happy, but he didn't seem pissed off, either. "So I guess you're a little fucked up over this too, huh?" he said.  
  
Ryan lowered his eyes. "Kind of an understatement," he mumbled. Suddenly he remembered the conversation he'd had with Spencer earlier. "Speaking of suspicions...Spencer officially knows about us."  
  
"Oh yeah?" Brendon asked, not sounding overly concerned. "How does he know?"  
  
"He asked me. Well, not outright, but in a roundabout way. And I kind of admitted it. In a roundabout way."  
  
"Huh," said Brendon. He seemed to be considering the possible consequences of that news, but then he just shrugged. "He and Jon will deal."  
  
"Well, there won't be anything to deal with if we're stopping."  
  
The words hung in the air between them, and Ryan found himself subconsciously holding his breath. Although he was firm in his belief that Brendon needed to figure things out before they went any further, he selfishly longed for Brendon to convince him that they didn't need to stop. He knew it was irrational, but that knowledge wasn't enough to stop the urge.  
  
A few seconds passed, but it felt like an hour. Then Brendon said, for the fourth time, "I just don't know." His tone was so torn and unhappy that Ryan couldn't find it in himself to be angry anymore.  
  
"Okay," he said. "That says it all. Come on. Let's go back, they're probably waiting for us."

  *********

Back on the bus, Spencer pulled Ryan aside. "How did it go?" he asked, his empathy genuine.

 Ryan felt a sudden rush of gratitude for his bandmate. It meant a lot that Spencer cared about Ryan's feelings more than he feared the implications of what might happen if word of Brendon and Ryan's "situation" became public.

 "It went pretty much as I expected. He's confused. I'm not going to push him into anything he might regret." 

 "Yeah," Spencer said. "So, uh...are you okay?"

Ryan offered him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm fine." It wasn't a complete lie. He was sad and tired, but he was fine. 

  *********

It was sometime around 3:00 in the morning when Ryan was woken from a fitful sleep by Brendon squeezing into the bunk with him. He wanted to object, thinking briefly of the fit Zack would have if he discovered them together in the morning, but then he realized that Brendon was barely awake. He didn't say anything, just snuggled into Ryan's side and closed his eyes. Just before he drifted back into a full sleep, Ryan heard him whisper, "I'm sorry," one more time.


	26. Swimming With the Sharks Until We Drown

For the second night in a row, Ryan couldn't fall asleep. The bunk was barely big enough for just one person, so he was tightly squeezed between the side of the bus and Brendon, who was having no trouble sleeping at all. Ryan lay on his back with Brendon pressed snugly against his side, his right arm slung over Ryan's chest. As tired and uncomfortable as he was, Ryan had to admit that the closeness felt good. Maybe a little  _too_  good, judging by his dick, which was just as awake and stiff as Ryan was. He sighed. This wasn't fair.

So, yeah, he'd been with guys before. Not too many, and mostly just one night stands, but he did have a 6-month-long relationship with one of them, Matt. He'd been happy, but it ended when the band began to take off. Ironically, or maybe not so ironically, the reason Matt had ended it was because he was jealous of Ryan's friendship with Brendon. Maybe he'd sensed that Ryan felt an attraction toward the singer, a possibility that seemed likely now that Ryan was aware that everybody else had sensed it too.

This, though. This felt different. Maybe because they'd been friends for so long, and had lived in such close spaces together for so long: first the one-bedroom apartment with all four band members, then weeks spent traveling in vans, and finally living on buses for months at a time. It wasn't as if this was love at first sight. This was his best friend, so the love was already there to begin with. But it was then, squished between Brendon's warm body and the cold steel of the bus, traveling at 70 miles per hour down the highway in the dead of night, that Ryan realized that he didn't just love him as a friend anymore. He  _loved_  him.

He was fucked.

Squinching his eyes shut tightly, as if that would make this newfound revelation untrue, Ryan tried to control the sudden surge of panic that threatened to wash over him like a tidal wave. He breathed deeply, in through his nose, out through his mouth.  _Do not freak out while you're trapped in this bunk._  Of course, that thought only added a rush of claustrophobia to his emotional riptide.

At least his boner was gone.

He must have been shaking, because Brendon slowly woke and lifted his head a little, trying to focus on Ryan's face through sleepy eyes. "Hey," he said in a hoarse whisper. And then again, a little more alarmed this time, "Hey. Ryan, what's wrong?"

Ryan couldn't answer him. His throat was tightening and he felt the sting of tears behind his eyes. He was  _not_  going to fucking cry. Suddenly wide awake, Brendon propped himself up on one elbow, as high as the tight confines of the bunk would allow. "Hey. Hey..." he said, finding himself at a loss for words. Ryan was clearly freaking out.

Ryan drew a deep breath and clenched his teeth. When he finally felt like he could speak without bawling, he said, "Go back to your own bunk, Brendon."

Brendon looked hurt, then confused. "No fucking way, I'm not leaving you like this."

That was the problem, Ryan realized. It felt like Brendon already  _had_  left him. Which, logically, was stupid, because they weren't even in a relationship. But feelings don't abide by the laws of logic.

"I'm fine," he gritted out. When he'd uttered those same words to Spencer just hours earlier, he'd actually believed himself. Now he knew it was all bullshit. You can only kid yourself for so long; eventually, reality would catch right up and kick you in the balls.

Brendon dropped his head back against Ryan's shoulder. He reached up with his right hand and stroked Ryan's face. Ryan felt the wetness and knew that he was wiping away the few tears that had escaped before he'd clamped that emotion back down. "You're clearly not fine," Brendon whispered. His hand trailed down, fingertips running down Ryan's neck, then stroking his chest, then finally coming to rest palm down against Ryan's stomach.

Ryan was torn between wanting to push Brendon away from him, out of his bunk, and wanting to press against him, wrap his arms and legs around him like a monkey, keep him close. Brendon must have sensed it, because his hand began to travel again, back up his chest and to his face. When his hand touched his cheek, Ryan reached up and grabbed it, his own hand like a claw, squeezing Brendon's so hard that his fingers were crushed together painfully. He turned his head, meeting Brendon's eyes with a hard stare. Abruptly, he released his hand.

"I think..." Ryan began, swallowing hard over the lump in his throat, "that you should go back to your own bunk."

Any sane person would have heeded the wise (albeit angry) advice and beat a hasty retreat, but nobody had ever accused Brendon of being entirely sane. It was one of the things most people loved about him. One of the things  _Ryan_  loved about him.

"I can't," Brendon informed him calmly.

This was not the response Ryan had been expecting. When his exhausted mind finally processed what Brendon had said, he asked, "What do you mean, you  _can't_?"

"The floor is the ocean. Deep, dark, shark infested waters. Maybe even pirates. This bunk is our boat. We're only safe here, as long as we stick together." Brendon delivered this story completely deadpan, his face serious, his tone dire.

Ryan stared incredulously at his obviously stupid friend. Blinking for a few seconds, he opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't come up with anything that seemed to suit the moment. Brendon seized the opportunity to add to his tale.

"If you listen carefully, you'll hear beautiful singing in the distance. Don't be fooled. Those are the sirens. They're not here to help us. They want us to go to their island so they can hold us hostage and use us for sex."

In spite of himself, Ryan couldn't help but respond to this. Scornfully, he retorted, "Nuh-uh. Sirens lured sailors to their island so they would shipwreck and  _die_."

"Pffft. You think those whores didn't get some of that hot sailor dick first,  _then_  kill them?"

It suddenly dawned on Ryan how absolutely, astoundingly ludicrous this conversation was. How had it even gotten to this? Fucking Brendon.

"Are you, like, nine years old?" he said.

Ignoring this, Brendon replied, "You wouldn't want me to get eaten by sharks right in front of you, would you?"

"Right now? To be honest? Yes. Yes I would."

"But think about it. My blood and guts would attract more sharks. They would overtake this little boat and you'd be a goner too."

"That sounds like a better fate than this, though. Stuck here with your idiotic ass." And then, out of nowhere, Ryan was laughing. Not just a little chuckle, either. He was laughing so hard his stomach hurt, shoulders shaking, hand clamped over his mouth to keep from waking everyone else on the bus up.

And Brendon smiled and tucked his head tighter against Ryan's shoulder. He'd done his job. He knew he was the one who'd made Ryan sad, so he might as well be the one to make him laugh again too.

This time, Ryan was the one to fall asleep first. Brendon watched him for a few minutes, the rise and fall of his chest, the half-moon shape of his eyelashes against his cheeks. Brendon pressed his mouth against Ryan's shoulder, lips slightly parted, not so much a kiss as a taste, breathing him in.

He was fucked.


	27. Peace Offering

"Wake up, sleepyheads," Spencer said, poking Brendon's side through the curtain of the bunk. Blinking awake, Brendon noticed that Spencer hadn't pulled the curtain back at all. He was probably too nervous about what he might see, having deduced from Brendon's empty bunk that he had slept in Ryan's. Keeping his voice low, Spencer added, "Zack hasn't noticed anything yet, so you might want to break it up before he does."

Ryan rubbed his eyes and shook his wrist, which had fallen asleep from being trapped under Brendon. He looked at Brendon and nodded to indicate that Spencer was right: time to go. Brendon groaned and slid out of the bunk, stretching and yawning when his feet hit the floor. Spencer looked vaguely uncomfortable, so Brendon patted him on the shoulder and said, "Thanks for the heads up."

"No problem. There's coffee in the lounge," Spencer replied, before heading in that direction himself.

Brendon poked his head around the corner of the bunk curtain. "Hey Ryan, it's safe to come out. We made it to the island. The sharks and sirens are no longer a threat."

"You're a fucking dork," Ryan said, but he was smiling.

"Part of my charm," Brendon told him cheerfully, and Ryan had no comeback because, well, it was true.

Ten minutes later they were dressed and in the lounge, coffees in hand. They'd arrived at the hotel but wouldn't be able to check in for a few more hours. Jon and Spencer were playing hacky sack in the parking lot, and after they were sufficiently caffeinated, Brendon and Ryan went out to join them.

Brendon was the best at hacky sack; he had quick reflexes and was extremely agile. The other three were no slouches, however, and the game went on for the better part of an hour before they finally got bored of it. Then Brendon and Spencer started tossing a frisbee back and forth while Ryan and Jon sat on the curb to spectate. Brendon was shirtless, his jeans riding low on his hips, and Ryan tried not to stare. This didn't go unnoticed by Jon, who looked at Ryan and said, "So..."

Ryan felt himself tense up. Why couldn't anyone mind their own business?

Undeterred, Jon continued, "Just so you know, I'm aware of what's going on with you and...him."

"Did Spencer say something to you?" Ryan said sharply.

"Spencer doesn't  _have_  to say anything. I'm not blind or stupid. I can see it myself," Jon retorted. After a moment of contemplation, he said in a tone of wonderment, "So...it's true then."

Ryan said nothing. At this point, denying it would be futile.

True to form, Jon wasn't content leaving it at that. "Have you guys--"

"Can you  _not_?" Ryan interrupted.

"--done stuff?" Jon finished.

"That's none of your fucking business."

"That's a yes."

Ryan made a move to stand up and Jon stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Hey, sorry. I won't ask anything else." Ryan settled back down but didn't say anything.

Jon lasted 45 seconds before asking, "So...are you the pitcher or the catcher?"

Ryan was on his feet, striding toward the bus, before Jon had even finished the question. Jon called behind him, "I was only  _kidding_!"

Brendon and Spencer turned to see what the commotion was, letting the frisbee land on the concrete and skid almost to the curb. Ryan climbed the bus steps, wanting to slam the door but managing to keep himself in check.

If he and Brendon were a  _thing_ , the teasing wouldn't bother him. He normally had thick skin and could hurl insults and barbs back just as good as he got, if not better. But right now, with everything uncertain, the teasing struck a nerve that he couldn't ignore.

He heard the footsteps on the bus stairs and knew who it was without even looking. Brendon said, "Hey. What happened?"

"Jon knows," Ryan answered bluntly.

"Oh." Brendon seemed to consider this information for a minute, turning to look out the window in Jon's direction. He saw Spencer and Jon standing together, deep in discussion. He didn't have to guess what they were talking about. "What did he say?"

"Wanted to know if you were a top or a bottom."

Brendon groaned. "Fuckin'  _Jon_." Then he laughed.

"It's not  _funny_ ," Ryan snapped, and Brendon cut his laughter short.

"Sorry. I just-- I don't think it's really that big a deal," Brendon said.

"Maybe to  _you_  it isn't, but to me..." Ryan trailed off. "I just think it's shitty and ironic that they both find out about us right as we decide there  _is_ no 'us'."

Brendon looked at him soberly. "Alright, fair enough. But look on the bright side, at least they're not being all weird about it."

Ryan gave a short laugh, but he was anything but amused. Scornfully, he said, "Yeah. Great silver lining, right there."

They stared at each other; Ryan defiant, Brendon bewildered. Brendon looked away first.

***** 

Ryan kept to himself as much as possible for the rest of the day. Spencer tried to coax him out of his bad mood a couple of times, but Ryan shrugged him off. Jon and Brendon knew enough to just let him be. He wasn't angry; he was just heavy-hearted. 

They checked into the hotel and he carried his belongings up to his room, then watched some mindless television until it was time for soundcheck. The show went fine, even though his heart wasn't in it. The Speech was exactly the way it was scripted; no shenanigans. Brendon knew better than to try. When it was over, Ryan headed to his room while the other three, along with Zack and some of the crew, went off to Jon's room to have a little afterparty. Ryan took a long shower, put on some boxers and flopped onto the bed. He wasn't tired; the adrenaline from the show still remained, but he didn't feel like being in a crowded room, either. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, trying to find a boring documentary or something else that might help lull him to sleep. He found one about the ocean on The Discovery Channel. The narrator had a low, soothing voice, and it was just starting to do the trick when there was a knock on the door.

Ryan sighed. He was surprised by how  _not_ surprised he was. Slowly, he stood up and made his way to the door, looking through the peephole to make sure it was who he thought it was. It wouldn't be a good idea to open the door wearing only boxers if it was anyone else. Sure enough, Brendon stood in the hall, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets, rocking on his heels. Apparently he knew that Ryan wasn't in the mood for the giant-eyeball-in-the-peephole trick.

Ryan pulled the door open but said nothing; just regarded him warily.

"I don't want you to be sad," Brendon stated. He took his hands out of his pockets and held up a joint. "I brought a peace offering."

Weed had never sounded so good. Ryan stepped back and gestured for him to come in.


	28. You'll Never Know if You Don't Ever Try Again

Brendon sat on the edge of the bed, watching Ryan empty the contents of his suitcase onto the floor.

"I can't believe you forgot to bring a lighter," Ryan said, exasperated.

"I can't think of  _everything_."

"That's the problem, you never  _think_ ," Ryan muttered.

Brendon lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. He didn't feel like getting into an argument, especially knowing what kind of mood Ryan had been in all day.

Ryan began digging through one of the outer pockets of his suitcase. After a minute he exclaimed triumphantly, "A-ha! I knew I had one in here." He sat back on his heels and tossed the lighter to Brendon, who caught it one-handed.

Sliding off the bed, Brendon knelt next to him and handed him the joint and the lighter. "You can start it."

Ryan reached out, flinching slightly when their hands brushed. Flicking the lighter on, he put the joint to his lips and inhaled deeply until the end glowed red. The sweet-tasting smoke flooded his lungs and he held it in, closing his eyes, already feeling more relaxed than he had all day.

"That's good shit, right?" Brendon asked, smiling knowingly.

Ryan blew out a stream of smoke and replied sedately, "Yeah it is. Where'd you get it?"

Brendon shrugged. "Zack knows somebody." He extended his arm and Ryan handed him the joint, watching as Brendon took a long drag and then sat back on the floor, his back against the bed and his legs stretched out in front of him. His eyes drifted closed, too, and he murmured, "Ahhh...I knew it'd be good."

They smoked most of the joint in silence after that. Comfortable silence, Brendon thought, but maybe he was just stoned.

After a few minutes, Ryan asked, aiming for a casual tone of voice, "So...are you going back to the party?"

"I wasn't planning to," Brendon answered. "Why? Do you want me to leave?" He couldn't tell if Ryan was trying to kick him out.

Ryan didn't know how to answer that. He didn't want him to go, but he didn't really want him to stay either. Not if they both wanted different things. "It's up to you. Do what you want," he said, instantly realizing how childish it sounded. Fortunately for him, Brendon didn't call him out on it.

"I only want to stay if you  _want_  me to stay," Brendon challenged.

Ryan stared at him; his mind a little hazy, his body pleasantly languid from the weed. "I don't know what I want."

Brendon let out a humorless laugh. "Kind of a theme with us, don't you think?"

"Kind of a theme with  _you_." Ryan retorted.

In a second (faster than Ryan would have thought possible, considering the caliber of weed they were smoking), Brendon was on his feet. "Hey, man, I've all been tiptoeing around you all day --  _everyone_  has. I get that things aren't really going the way you want them to, or whatever, but you're getting on everyone's nerves."

Ryan got to his feet too, a bit unsteadily. "Then leave," he snapped.

Brendon crossed his arms and planted his feet wide apart. "Make me," he said with a smirk, sounding like a petulant 10-year-old.

Ryan took a step forward and pushed him, not trying to hurt him, just shoving him in the direction of the door. Brendon leaned back but didn't stumble.  _Damn him and his stupid balance_ , Ryan thought. He shoved him again, this time with more force.

"Hey, easy there. You don't want to break a nail," Brendon taunted.

Ryan sneered and moved in to push him again, but this time Brendon caught him by the wrists, hooked his leg around Ryan's ankles, and tripped him. He landed with a thud on the floor and instantly Brendon was on him, tickling him ruthlessly until he squealed like a girl.

"Get off me, asshole!" he shouted, squirming frantically.

Brendon was laughing like a maniac. He didn't stop tickling him until they were both out of breath and panting, and then he collapsed on top of Ryan, who grunted under his weight.

"You're  _squishing_  me," Ryan complained, his voice muffled against Brendon's shoulder. He wanted to push him off but his arms were pinned, so he tried bucking his hips up and  _oh, shit_  - that felt good. Almost involuntarily, he did it again. With only boxers on, he knew he wasn't going to be able to hide the fact that he was getting hard.

_Brendon wants to stop_ , he reminded himself. He was just about to tell him once more to get off of him, but before he had a chance, Brendon rocked his hips down and turned his face into Ryan's neck. Ryan groaned. He wasn't the only one getting hard.

"What are we  _doing_?" he said on a sigh. He felt the warmth of Brendon's breath on his neck, and then the touch of his parted lips, the glide of his tongue.

"That's the same question you ask every time," Brendon whispered against his skin.

"I thought you wanted to stop."

"I can't stop," Brendon said, thrusting slowly against him. "I just fucking  _want_  you." He raised himself up on his arms so their eyes could meet, and Ryan took the opportunity to free his arms.

"Okay," he said, his hands going to the hem of Brendon's shirt. "Okay." He slipped his fingertips under the fabric, lightly brushing against hot skin. Then they were kissing, almost frantically at first, then slowing into a more leisurely pace, as if they'd both remembered there was no need to rush.

Ryan tugged at Brendon's shirt until he knelt back to pull it off over his head. After tossing it into the corner, he stayed where he was, looking down at Ryan with eyes that were dark with desire. Ryan let his own eyes roam over the other boy's bare shoulders, then down his lightly muscled chest and flat stomach. He outlined the V of Brendon's hipbones with his fingers, lust swirling low in his belly as he saw how hard he was, his erection straining against the fly of his jeans. Ryan popped open the button of Brendon's jeans, then eased the zipper down. Brendon looked down, watching his every move, his breathing ragged. When Ryan stroked Brendon's erection through his boxers with the back of his hand, Brendon shivered and pushed into the touch.

"Bed?" Ryan said, his voice rough. It was half question, half order.

"Bed," Brendon agreed, but made no move to get up. He placed his hands on Ryan's chest and slid them downward, brushing over his nipples and down his stomach, then curling his fingertips into the waistband of his boxers.

"I can't get enough of seeing you like this," Brendon said, his voice low. It sounded like a confession. "I think about it all the time. I see you and I just...want  _this_." He slid Ryan's boxers down and Ryan lifted his hips to help him. Brendon crawled backward on his hands and knees and lowered his head to nip at Ryan's hipbone. "I want you naked." He moved to the other hipbone. "I want you hard."

"I'm  _so_  fucking hard," Ryan murmured. The anticipation was killing him, but he loved it.

"I know," Brendon said with a wicked smile, and then he took Ryan's erection into his mouth, wrapping his lips tight around the head and sliding down to take as much of him as he could. Ryan let out a loud moan and arched up into it, letting his hands come to rest on top of Brendon's head.

"Fuuuuuck," he breathed. Brendon took his time, his head moving slowly up and down, his mouth hot and wet against Ryan's cock. He wrapped his right hand around the base and began to stroke him, pulling away for a minute to watch with hungry eyes, his thumb flicking over the head, and then he dipped his head again to lick at the pre-cum that glistened at the tip. He liked the taste; a little salty, a little bitter; it turned him on so much, and he groaned wantonly around Ryan's cock.

Ryan found himself thrusting shallowly into Brendon's mouth, unable to help it, but trying not to choke him at the same time. He was making low sounds at the back of his throat, almost like whimpering, and his fingers snaked through Brendon's hair.

It was obvious from Brendon's muffled moaning that he was enjoying himself and didn't have any intention on stopping. For a while he didn't keep a steady rhythm, deciding instead to practicing various techniques, like twisting his hand on the upstroke and seeing how deep into his throat he could take him. After a few minutes of experimentation, his pace gradually began to quicken, sucking and stroking, his grip tight. His moaning added a vibration to the mix, and Ryan felt himself getting close to the edge. His hands tugged at Brendon's hair in warning.

"Slow down. Oh God, slow -- stop,  _stop_." Ryan panted, trying to hold back, not wanting to come this way. Brendon took him all the way into his throat and hummed, and Ryan pleaded, "You gotta stop, fuck, fuck, you're gonna make me come..."

Brendon pulled off with a pop, loosening his grip and looking up with a naughty smile, his hair tousled. Ryan dropped his head back onto the carpet, breathing heavily, still right on the edge. "Jesus fuck," he gasped. "I'm so close, if you so much as breathe on me right now, I'm done."

Brendon laughed, and in a flash his hand was back on Ryan's dick, his grip firm on the still-slippery skin. "I want to watch you come," he said, his voice throaty. He gave two hard strokes, twisting his palm around the head each time, and Ryan let out a strangled sound and came, his hips bucking up, semen spilling onto his stomach and Brendon's hand. Brendon watched, enthralled, then lowered his head and licked the remainder off the sensitive head, hearing Ryan's sharp intake of breath.

"Oh my God," Ryan panted as he slowly came down. "Holy fucking shit."

Brendon moved up to lay beside him, his own erection very visible.

"I didn't want to come that way," Ryan said accusingly.

"How did you want to come?"

Ryan opened his mouth to answer, thought better of it, and closed it again.

Brendon pressed his erection against Ryan's naked thigh and put his mouth against his ear. "What do you want?" he whispered, his hot breath tickling his ear. Brendon sucked on his earlobe, then gently nipped it between his teeth.

"I want--" Ryan began, then cut himself off again.

Brendon rocked against him, the friction making him moan into Ryan's ear. "You want to fuck me?"

Ryan's cock jumped, wanting to get hard again already. "Fuck," Ryan said. He turned his head and captured Brendon's full lips with his own. When they pulled away, Ryan said, "Do you want me to?"

"I've been thinking about it," Brendon admitted, "and I think it's something I want to try. You know that old saying, 'I'd rather regret the things I did and not the things I didn't do', or whatever?"

Ryan gave him a troubled glance. "I'd rather you not regret it at all."

"Well, I won't know that unless I try it, right?" Brendon said reasonably. He kissed him again. "And I want to try it with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I accidentally lied and there will be another chapter after this, then *maybe* an epilogue depending how it works out. Thanks for reading and a special thanks to those who left kudos and comments!


	29. Your Body is a Symphony and I'm Conducting

For a couple of minutes, they kissed, lazy and unhurried, fingertips stroking across each other's shoulders and chests. Brendon was the first to pull away, grudgingly. "Can we take this to the bed now?" he asked. His voice was soft, but Ryan could detect an underlying hint of urgency. He felt his own pulse quicken and the sudden, unexpected sensation of butterflies in his stomach. In all the times he'd imagined this scenario (and if he was honest, he'd have to admit that he'd imagined it too many times to count), being this nervous had never factored in.

Sensing Ryan's hesitation, Brendon got to his feet and held out his hand. "C'mon," he said. Ryan took the outstretched hand and allowed himself to be helped up. He couldn't pinpoint why he was so anxious; after all, it wasn't  _his_  first time. Brendon pulled him in for another kiss, and for a minute Ryan forgot all about his nervousness as he was distracted by the hot press of their bare skin together and the feel of Brendon hard against his upper thigh. Ryan was already hard again, himself, which might have been a personal record. A wave of heat washed over him and he shoved at Brendon's jeans, suddenly irritated that they were still on. Brendon chuckled deep in the back of his throat and said, "Yeah, you really shouldn't be the only one naked," and assisted him with getting them off and out of the way. He lined his body up with Ryan's and kissed him again, harder, as he began walking him backward toward the bed.

When the back of his knees connected with the edge of the mattress, Ryan lowered his body onto it and pulled Brendon down with him. Their mouths came together again frenziedly and Ryan kissed him, desperate and wild, in an attempt to make the physical pleasure outweigh his emotional conflict. This was new, he realized. Emotions had never been much of an issue for him when it came to sex. It suddenly occurred to him, on some subliminal level, that he might want to analyze that sometime.

Brendon was perceptive enough to notice that something felt off. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and gave Ryan a questioning look. "Hey," he said, somehow managing to infuse the single syllable with an air of affectionate concern.

Ryan lay beneath him, breathing unevenly, his thoughts scattered. He knew that Brendon was waiting for him to say something, but words were beyond his reach. He tried to pull Brendon's head back down, but Brendon said, "No, just..." and shifted his weight to pull the covers back. "Get under," he instructed.

A minute later they were burrowed beneath the covers, nestled together. "We can slow things down," Brendon said, his lips grazing the skin beneath Ryan's ear. "And maybe you can tell me what's wrong."

Ryan moved his hand to Brendon's stomach, absentmindedly tracing circles across his skin with his fingertips. He was usually good with words, but right now they continued to elude him. Brendon lifted his head and made eye contact. "Do you want to stop? We don't have to--" he trailed off, then finished with, "--we can just do other stuff. It's okay. I just figured that, you know, um, since you were the one to mention it that night, you wanted to, and then I thought about it, and then  _I_  wanted to, and --" in typical Brendon style, he was rambling, and the familiarity of it was helping to calm Ryan's nerves.

"I  _do_  want to," Ryan finally spoke. "It's just...you've never done it, Brendon, and the first time usually isn't great."

Brendon laughed at that. "Well then, we can just keep trying until it gets great."

Ryan sighed. "No, I mean...it can hurt. It  _will_  hurt. The first time."

"I'm not afraid of a little pain."

Ryan knew this was true. He'd seen Brendon get knocked unconscious on stage after taking a bottle to the head, then get right back up and finish their set. He might be small in stature, but size was deceiving. He was tougher than he looked.

"I know you're not," Ryan told him now. "But the thing is, I don't want to be the one hurting you. I'm...nervous about it. I want it to be good for you."

Something flickered in Brendon's eyes, some emotion that Ryan couldn't read, and for a minute he was afraid that Brendon was going to say something sappy. It was a relief when, instead, he broke into a grin and said, "Awwww. If that isn't just the sweetest thing I've ever heard. I always knew you were the type of boy I could take home to meet my mom."

Ryan rolled his eyes but couldn't help laughing. "I've already  _met_ your mom, fucktard."

"Yeah, but that was before you started doing dirty, dirty things to me."

"True. Those days weren't nearly as much fun." As if to emphasize this point, Ryan reached down and cupped Brendon's cock. Neither of them was fully hard anymore, but that could be changed very quickly. "So...you really want to do this?"

Brendon groaned under his touch and fell back against the pillow. "Fuck yeah, I want to do this."

Ryan rolled on top of him, kissed him, and said, "We're going to do it right, then. I'm gonna take it really slow."

"Okay," Brendon agreed, raising his hips up so their cocks brushed together. "But only if you promise to do it fast and hard next time." He gave him a lopsided smile and Ryan moaned and ground against him. Their mouths met in a searing kiss, and Brendon trailed his hands down his back, grabbing his ass and pulling him closer. Their lips still together, Ryan murmured, "I need to get a couple things..." Brendon kissed him one more time, hard, then released him.

Ryan jumped out of bed and rummaged in the outer pocket of his suitcase, returning a few seconds later with condoms and lube. He crawled back under the covers and on top of Brendon. He kissed him slowly, then propped himself up on his forearms and looked down so their eyes could meet. When Ryan spoke, his voice was throaty but authoritative. "I want you to let me do everything for the next few minutes."

Brendon's eyes were locked with his, unwavering and dark with want. He nodded once.

Ryan began to move down his body, kissing his jawline, the side of his neck, his collarbone. "I need you to trust me."

"You know I trust you," Brendon breathed, closing his eyes in anticipation.

Ryan hid his smile against Brendon's skin. Slowly, he inched his way down his chest, kissing and licking as he went, grazing his right nipple with his teeth and then sucking on it. Brendon squirmed beneath him and subconsciously put his hands on Ryan's shoulders, gently pushing him lower. Ryan shrugged his hands off and continued with his maddeningly slow descent. He nuzzled and licked his way down Brendon's chest and stomach, dipping his tongue into his bellybutton and tracing his hipbones with his thumbs. Brendon drew in a sharp breath and held it in for a few long seconds as Ryan went lower, blowing it out when Ryan bypassed his erection and moved down to lick his inner thigh. With his right hand, Ryan cupped Brendon's balls, then shifted up to mouth at them. Brendon moaned and raised his hips a fraction of an inch, wordlessly asking for more. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard the lid of the lube bottle snap open, but the meaning behind it didn't register until he felt the tip of Ryan's slicked-up middle finger dance along his perineum. Reflexively, his body stiffened; only a tiny bit, but enough for Ryan to take note and pause the motion, instead applying just a small amount of pressure to the area as his mouth continued its teasing exploration.

He kept at it until Brendon's fingers tangled in Ryan's hair and he gasped, "God, Ryan...can you--" His fingers tugged at the strands of hair, just enough to be almost painful.

Ryan lifted his head and looked up, waiting for the rest of the question. When it didn't come, he said, "What? Tell me what you want." Once again, he found himself surprised by how important it was to him for this to be a good experience for Brendon.

Brendon pulled at Ryan's hair again, his hips shifting restlessly on the bed, trying to pull Ryan up higher. It was easy enough to figure out what he wanted, and even as turned on as he was, Ryan was amused. He was going to make Brendon ask for it. "What?" he said again, lowering his head to return to what he'd been doing. Brendon allowed it for a minute, groaning almost helplessly, but then he tightened his grip on Ryan's hair and yanked, hard. Ryan couldn't help it, he came up laughing.

"Jesus," he muttered. " _Patience_." He crawled back up Brendon's body, lowered himself down, and kissed him. Brendon kissed back, greedily, and pushed his hips up, seeking friction. Ryan fisted Brendon's hair and pulled, sinking his teeth into his lower lip at the same time. Brendon made a noise that was nearly a growl, and Ryan smiled against his lips and said, "Use your words."

"Blow me," Brendon uttered, his voice husky, and it wasn't an insult. It was a request.

Grinning wickedly, Ryan responded, "Well, why didn't you just say so?" and this time Brendon  _did_  growl.

Ryan slid down the bed again and without hesitation took Brendon's full length into his mouth, effectively cutting him off mid-growl and turning it into a moan. Brendon pushed his head down and Ryan let him, relaxing his throat and accepting every inch. When Brendon realized that he was holding him down, he eased up and Ryan began to move, sliding his mouth back up his cock, lips wrapped tightly around it, then back down again. The next time he went up, he wrapped his long fingers around him and began stroking him in time with his mouth.

Brendon was getting worked up, gripping the sheets in his hands, his sounds getting louder. Ryan backed off when things started getting too intense. He got to his knees on the mattress between Brendon's legs and looked down at him, eyes clouded with lust, his own cock hard and leaking. Grabbing the lube again, he squirted some onto the fingers of his right hand, and then drizzled some directly on Brendon's dick.

"The only thing that makes a first time good..." he said, gripping Brendon's erection with his left hand, "is if you're so hot you're almost begging for it."  He began jerking him off as he slid his other hand lower. When his middle finger came in contact with Brendon's hole, he didn't push inside; just pressed the pad of his finger against the outside of the ring of muscle while he focused on what his other hand was doing.

Brendon reached for Ryan's cock, but Ryan moved his hips back so he was out of reach. "Uh-uh," he said. "I told you...let me do everything."

Brendon responded by bringing his hand down to wrap around the one Ryan had on Brendon's dick, squeezing it tighter and bucking up into it. "Then fucking  _do_  it," he said, his tone impatient and challenging at the same time.

Ryan needed no further instruction. He pushed his middle finger inside of Brendon, all the way to the second knuckle. For a few seconds Brendon stilled, his muscles clenching tightly around Ryan's finger. Then he said, "Fuuucckkk" in a drawn out moan that went directly to Ryan's groin, and Ryan slid his finger in all the way.

"Is this okay?" he asked, although it was clear from Brendon's reaction that it was more than okay.

This time, when Brendon reached for him, Ryan didn't back away. His eyes fluttered shut and he let out a moan as he felt Brendon's hand wrap around his cock and start stroking. He stroked Brendon at the same time and slowly began to push a second finger into him. Again, Brendon's body tensed up involuntarily, but this time Ryan didn't stop. "Try to relax," he said, his tone soothing. Working the second finger in took some effort, and Ryan whispered, "Fuck, you're tight." When both fingers were halfway in, he curved them upward, searching, and was satisfied when Brendon gasped. "Feel good?" he asked.

It took Brendon a minute to find his voice, but when he did he said, "It's...different. But good." Ryan crooked his fingers once more, and Brendon gasped again and added with a choked laugh, "Really fucking good." His hand faltered on Ryan's cock as he concentrated on the new sensation, and Ryan used the opportunity to move out of his reach again. It seemed that making this good for Brendon was going to be easier than he'd thought, and he wanted to focus. He lowered his head and took Brendon into his mouth again, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking. Brendon hissed and arched his back, driving himself further onto Ryan's fingers and up into his mouth at the same time. Ryan groaned, so incredibly turned on. He was ready,  _so_  ready, to fuck Brendon, but he knew the first time shouldn't be rushed. He concentrated instead on driving Brendon crazy with his lips, tongue and throat, keeping at it until Brendon was writhing beneath him. He worked a third finger inside him, and this one went in easier. He was nearly ready.

When Ryan took a break and withdrew his fingers to rip open the condom packet and roll it onto himself, Brendon made a sound of complaint at the sudden lack of contact. Ryan chuckled at his eagerness. He poured lubricant liberally into his hand and stroked himself, watching Brendon watch him as he coated the condom with the slippery liquid. "Bend your legs and pull them up to your chest," he instructed huskily. Brendon hesitated, only for a second, but enough to remind Ryan to keep himself in check. Brendon closed his eyes and brought his legs up, and Ryan guided his cock to Brendon's hole, then stopped and waited until Brendon opened his eyes again and looked at him. Ryan opened his mouth to say, "Ready?", but what came out instead was, "Are you sure?"

Brendon swallowed hard, nervous, but in a good way.  He brought his right hand up and started stroking himself. "Fucking  _go_ ," he moaned, begging, and Ryan forgot all about staying in control. He thrust forward, meeting resistance at first but pushing past it, burying his full length inside of Brendon. He was so tight, so  _hot_ , and Ryan let out a primal sounding groan, poised to pull out and slam back in before he remembered what was happening here. He stilled, panting, waiting.

Brendon's eyes were shut tight again and he was biting hard on his lower lip, his head tilted back into the pillow, his throat exposed. He was still touching himself, but no longer stroking; just holding. Through his own haze of pleasure, Ryan felt a stab of guilt and blurted, "Hey...you okay?"  His instinct was telling him to pull out, but he was afraid that any movement he made would cause pain, so he stayed as still as possible.

To Ryan it felt like an eternity, but it was only a few seconds before Brendon bit out, "Better than okay." When Ryan took that as an invitation to start moving again, Brendon added warningly, "Go slow."

Ryan pulled out almost all the way and started fucking Brendon with slow, shallow thrusts. He was suddenly grateful he'd already come once, because otherwise this might already be over for him. He concentrated on aiming upward to hit Brendon's prostate, the same way his fingers had. He knew he was getting it right when Brendon gradually started responding by pushing back into him.

Ryan reached down and gripped Brendon's cock, pushing Brendon's hand out of the way. He had it from here. He began stroking, and Brendon put his hands on Ryan's ass, digging his fingertips in and pulling him forward, coaxing him further in.

" _Fuck_ , Brendon," Ryan breathed heavily, feeling almost on the edge already. The fact that this was even happening was too big for him to wrap his mind around. Brendon trailed his hands up Ryan's back, scraping with blunt fingernails, until he was cupping the back of Ryan's head. He pulled him down for a dirty kiss and Ryan automatically pushed his cock in deeper, his mouth losing contact with Brendon's as a strangled moan escaped from his throat and he buried his face in Brendon's neck instead. He tightened his grip on Brendon's erection again and stroked him in time with his thrusts.

"Can you come like this?" Ryan asked Brendon, knowing that he, himself, wasn't going to last much longer.

Brendon's head was thrown back against the pillow. Ryan sucked on his neck and swiped his thumb over the head of Brendon's dick, smearing the precum that he'd milked out. Ryan's hips thrust, shallowly again, and Brendon moaned and rocked his hips down to meet him halfway. "Fuck," Ryan groaned, his voice muffled against Brendon's neck. "I'm close."

"Yeah," Brendon agreed breathlessly, twisting the sheets in both his fists.

"Wanna wait for you," Ryan gasped.

Brendon turned his head so his lips were touching Ryan's ear. He wrapped his legs around Ryan's waist, pushed down onto him, and implored in a throaty moan, "Then  _fuck me_."

Ryan didn't know how he managed not to come immediately. It was the hottest thing he'd ever heard. "Jesus," he breathed, and gave up his plan of being gentle. He pulled almost all the way out of Brendon and slammed back in, watching as Brendon threw his head back and cried out, pleasure edged with pain. Ryan glanced down to watch his own hand pumping Brendon's erection -- he was  _so_  hard, impossibly hard -- then repeated the aggressive thrust in and out again, then a third time. On the fourth time Brendon drove his hips down hard and came, hot and messy over Ryan's hand and his own stomach, letting out a carnal groan that was Ryan's undoing. He buried himself deep and let go, biting down on Brendon's collarbone to stifle the stream of profanity that spilled from his mouth as he kept on coming. He collapsed on top of Brendon, who grunted but made no move to push him off.

A minute or two passed, both of them breathing heavily, coming down. Ryan pulled out slowly and Brendon made a small sound of protest. As he slowly regained his senses, Ryan was startled when he realized that Brendon was shaking beneath him. Was he  _crying_?  _Fuck_ , Ryan thought, silently freaking out for a second. He got to his hands and knees to look down, ready to apologize and do something, a _nything_ , to comfort and reassure Brendon. And then he realized that Brendon was laughing. Hysterical, shoulder-shaking, silent laughter. Ryan didn't know if he should be offended.

"What the fuck?" he said.

Brendon snorted and tried to calm down enough to talk. After a few gasping attempts to breathe, he managed to say, "No -- it's not --" and then burst out laughing again.

"Whaaaat?" Ryan said, not meaning for it to come out as whiny as it did.

Wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, Brendon took a deep breath and tried again. "It's not you, it's not. It was good. I just --" he clamped his hand over his mouth as laughter threatened to overtake him again. He finally settled down when he saw the bordering-on-pissed-off look on Ryan's face. "I just  _can't believe we did that_."

Ryan stared down at him, frowning, his eyebrows knitted together. Then a smug grin spread across his face and he collapsed back down on top of Brendon.

Brendon grunted loudly and said, "Goddamn, you're heavier than you look."

"I can't believe we did it either," Ryan said, sounding awed. Then he added, worriedly, "Did you -- was it --?"

"It was fucking awesome," Brendon assured him. "It was...intense."

"Yeah," Ryan agreed, seriously.

Brendon squirmed beneath him and elbowed him in the ribs. "Off," he commanded. Ryan groaned, suddenly exhausted, but did as he was told and flopped onto his back on the mattress. Brendon quickly moved to spoon him, reaching down to retrieve the blankets that had, at some point, been kicked to the end of the bed. Once they were sufficiently tucked in, Brendon wrapped his arm around Ryan and laced their fingers together. "Thank you," he murmured sweetly, and Ryan squeezed his hand.

They were almost asleep when Ryan said softly, "So...since this was just you 'experimenting', I guess my job here is done."

Brendon laughed softly and nipped Ryan's shoulder with his teeth. "Well..." he said, "I haven't tried  _topping_  yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! Thank you for reading and commenting and encouraging me to not quit halfway through this. This chapter took me forever. It was like pulling teeth, which was weird because usually I love writing smut. Ha!! But seriously, I hope it doesn't suck. :D


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